I&54f4 

1 


UC-NRLF 


B    E    fl42    717 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

Mrs#  Frank  Newman 


REMINISCENCES  • 

of  the 

WAR  of  1861-1865 


"The  warrior  s  banner  takes  its  flight 
To' greet  the  warrior  s  soul" 


BY 


PHILIP  F.  BROWN 

Company  "C"  12th  Virginia  Infantry 
Af a  hone's  Brigade 


\ 


6  oULo  QuLt^  CjzIL^sha^ 


Reminiscences  of  the 
War  of  1861-1865 


BY 

PHILIP  F.  BROWN 

•9 

Company  "  C  "  12  th  Virginia  Infantry 

M a hone's  Brigade 


RICHMOND,  VA. 

WHITTET  &  SHEPPERSON,  PRINTERS 

1917 


LOAN  STACK 
GIFT 


llSHH 


FOREWORD 

To  the  First  Edition 

Yielding  to  the  suggestions  of  many  companions  and 
friends,  who  read  my  war  reminiscences  in  The  Buchanan 
News  and  Fincastle  Herald,  I  have  concluded  to  publish 
them  in  pamphlet  form. 

They  do  not  pretend  to  anything  more  than  a  per- 
sonal illustration  of  what  passed  before  the  eyes  of  the 
writer,  who  bore  an  inconspicuous  part  in  the  bloody 
drama  that  was  written  on  the  pages  of  American  history, 
i 86 i  to  1865. 

PHILIP  F.  BROWN. 


FOREWORD 

To  the  Second  Edition 

This  second  edition  is  published  fifty-two  years  after 
the  incidents  herein  mentioned  occurred. 

In  the  past  half  century,  the  checkerboard  of  personal 
events  in  the  writer's  life  is  radiant  with  events  of  peril, 
pathos  and  pleasure,  mingled  with  success  and  misfortune 
that  has  ebbed  and  flowed,  rendering  his  life  somewhat 
similar  to  Thackaray's  "Story  of  Philip  On  His  Way 
Through  the  World,"  who  helped  him,  who  kicked  him, 
and  who  passed  him  by. 

If  spared  to  reach  my  four-score  years  it  is  probable  I 
will  write  and  leave  them  as  a  legacy  for  the  next 
generation. 


159 


Reminiscences  of  the  War 
of  1861-1865 


BY  PHILIP  F.  BROWN 


In  the  summer  of  i860  I  left  Columbia,  after  serving  two 
years  with  the  well-known  mercantile  firm  of  Hodgson  & 
Estes.  Columbia  is  located  at  the  confluence  of  the  Rivanna 
and  James  Rivers,  fifty-six  miles  west  of  Richmond. 

At  that  time  it  was  the  trading  center  of  the  rich  plantation 
owners  of  James  River  low  grounds.  The  Harrisons,  Gaits, 
Allans  and  many  others  made  large  purchases  for  the  support 
of  their  many  hundred  slaves  and  the  Caledonia  Gold  Mines, 
Fisher's  Gold  Mines,  of  Goochland,  and  the  Stockton  Mines, 
of  Louisa,  also  extensive  tobacco  growers  of  Fluvanna,  Gooch- 
land and  Cumberland,  made  Columbia  a  busy,  bustling  little 
town. 

"Point  of  Fork,"  now  owned  by  Hon.  J.  Alston  Cabell,  was 
the  palatial  Colonial  home  of  Hon.  James  Gait,  and  embraced 
the  large  boundary  between  the  two  rivers. 

Meeting  Mr.  Hodgson  in  Richmond,  where  I  had  gone  to 
seek  a  higher  salary  than  the  country  could  afford,  he  accom- 
panied me  to  the  American  Hotel,  then  undergoing  repair  for 
the  firm  of  Carrington  &  Ayres.  I  was  given  a  very  compli- 
mentary recommendation  by  my  former  business  preceptor,  to 
whose  strict  methods  I  attribute  much  if  not  all  of  my  business 
acumen. 

Col.  J,  L.  Carrington  at  once  gave  me  employment,  but,  as 
the  American  Hotel  would  not  be  open  for  a  month  or  more, 
I  was  sent  to  his  hotel  in  Petersburg,  the  Bollingbrook.    When 


8  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

the  American  Hotel  was  opened,  Sam  Carrington  persuaded  his 
father  to  let  me  remain  at  the  Bollingbrook  with  him. 

Tom  Beckwith  was  the  first  young  man  who  made  my 
acquaintance,  and  I  have  always  felt  grateful  to  him  for  the 
pleasant  way  in  which  he  introduced  me  to  others.  Many  of 
the  young  men  connected  with  mercantile  firms  were  meal 
boarders  and  I  soon  had  a  long  list  of  pleasant  friends. 

On  Saturday  evenings,  some  of  them  were  in  the  habit  of 
becoming  "gentlemanly  merry,"  but  not  intoxicated,  and  two 
invaded  behind  the  counter  and  placing  their  arms  around 
me  in  a  smiling  humor  proceeded  to  rush  me  into  the  bar  and 
gave  the  order  for  three  juleps.  I  shook  my  head  and  corrected 
the  order  to  two.  "The  order  stands  for  three,"  was  their 
promptly  reply ;  "we  are  paying  the  bill."  Bob,  the  venerable 
old  colored  barkeeper,  smiled  as  he  placed  the  three  tempting 
tall  glasses,  with  the  fragrant  mint  and  sliced  oranges  top- 
ping jingling  ice  and  amber  colored  beverage.  It  was  a 
rare  temptation,  but  I  refused  positively  to  drink;  they  guyed 
and  teased  me  for  several  minutes,  but  finding  me  unyielding 
in  my  resolve,  they  let  me  off  —  only  to  make  them  warmer 
friends  than  ever  before,  and  they  never  again  tempted  me. 

I  had  not  been  living  in  Petersburg  quite  a  year,  when 
the  question  of  seceding  from  the  Union  was  the  absorbing 
topic  of  the  day. 

In  my  youthful  and  humble  judgment  it  was  thought  very 
unwise  to  do  so,  though  believing  we  had  a  constitutional  right 
to  that  end. 

I  was  importuned  by  friends  in  various  military  organiza- 
tions to  become  a  member,  but  declined  until  Virginia  in  her 
sovereign  capacity  passed  the  act  of  secession  April  17,  1861. 

Prior  to  the  call  of  President  Lincoln  on  Virginia,  to  furnish 
her  quota  of  military  troops  to  coerce  the  Southern  States  back 
into  the  Union,  from  which  they  had  already  seceded,  the  Con- 
vention at  Richmond  was  overwhelmingly  in  favor  of  remain- 
ing peacefully  in  the  Union.  But  when  the  gauntlet  of  war  was 
cast  into  the  arena  of  debate,  it  instantly  changed  this  conven- 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  9 

tion  from  its  former  peaceful  attitude  to  one  of  defiance,  and 
the  act  of  secession  promptly  became  a  law. 

The  next  morning  I  volunteered  in  the  "B"  Grays  of  Peters- 
burg, and  on  the  20th  of  April,  1861,  we  boarded  a  train  enroute 
to  Norfolk.  Our  organization  was  then  known  as  the  "Peters- 
burg Batallion,"  comprising  two  companies  of  Grays  (A  and 
B),  each  108  men,  the  "City  Guard,"  "Petersburg  Rifles,"  "The 
Lafayette  Guards,"  and  the  "Nichols  Battery  of  Artillery," 
The  whole  of  Petersburg  seemed  to  have  turned  out  on  that 
eventful  April  morning  to  bid  us  farewell,  and  mingled  with 
tears,  banners  and  handkerchiefs  waving,  we  sped  away  over 
the  Petersburg  and  Norfolk  Railroad,  as  it  was  then  known. 
The  Richmond  Grays  had  preceded  us  a  day,  but  were  made  a 
unit  of  the  12th  Virginia. 

We  found  Norfolk  in  wild  excitement;  the  Gosport  Navy 
Yard  was  burning,  and  soon  after  dark  a  large  man-of-war, 
with  a  light  swinging  at  every  port-hole,  moved  slowly,  but 
majestically,  down  Elizabeth  River  to  Fortress  Monroe.  We 
learned  later  thatr  this  was  the  Minnesota.  We  were  quar- 
tered at  various  places  for  a  few  days,  but  finally  crossed  over 
to  the  Marine  Hospital,  located  at  Ferry  Point,  now  known  as 
Berkeley. 

Tents  were  scarce,  and  the  men  were  permitted  to  make 
the  best  plans  they  could  for  sleeping  accommodations.  In 
our  mess  of  five,  were  John  Dunlop  (known  as  English  John)  ; 
Donald  Dunlop,  Sam'l  Hatcher,  Pat  McCulloch  and  myself.* 

We  rented  a  room  near  the  grounds  of  the  hospital,  and, 
with  mattresses  lying  on  the  floor,  made  ourselves  fairly  com- 
fortable, for  soldier  life. 

"English  John,"  however,  wrote  to  Petersburg  for  his  rub- 
ber mattress,  which  he  inflated  with  air  by  means  of  a  bellows. 


*  After  the  war  closed  John  Dunlop  commenced  the  practice  of 
law  and  was  counsel  for  Mr.  Ginter,  the  wealthy  tobacconist,  of  Rich- 
mond. He  died  in  1901.  Donald  Dunlop  died  in  Baltimore  in  1915. 
Sam'l  Hatcher  was  wounded  at  Manassas  and  died  in  Memphis.  Pat 
McCulloch  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines. 


io  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

His  brother,  Doncey,  and  I  were  lying  on  our  hard  mattress, 
when  Doncey  whispered  in  my  ear,  "Phil,  I  am  going  to  play 
a  prank  on  John,  as  soon  as  he  is  sound  asleep. "  It  was  not 
long  before  John's  deep  breathing  gave  evidence  of  his  being 
"enveloped  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus."  Doncey  quietly  and 
stealthily  crept  to  the  luxurious  bed,  and  unscrewed  the  tap 
that  let  the  air  gradually  escape,  and  put  John  to  the  floor.  His 
head  lowering  first  caused  sonorous  sounds  that  amused  us 
greatly,  and  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  withhold  our  risibles ; 
John's  discomfort  finally  awoke  him,  and,  in  his  English 
brogue,  said :  "This  blasted  thing  had  sprung  a  leak."  Our 
snickering  could  not  be  suppressed,  and,  finding  the  tap  off, 
he  quickly  conjectured  that  mischief  was  the  cause.  He  en- 
tered into  the  joke  with  a  humor  that  indicates  a  well-balanced 
mind,  and  he  was  soon  again  resting  comfortably,  with  our 
assurance  that  nothing  of  the  kind  would  again  be  perpetrated 
on  him. 

Soon  after  reaching  Ferry  Point  I  was  placed  on  a  detail  to 
search  for  a  supposed  spy,  who  had  been  seen  returning  about 
daylight,  for  several  mornings,  from  the  direction  of  Fortress 
Monroe.  The  search  was  fruitless  so  far  as  finding  the  sup- 
posed spy  was  concerned. 

The  house  was  near  the  bank  of  the  Elizabeth  River,  not 
far  from  a  bridge,  then  known  as  Hardy's,  that  crossed  a 
branch  of  the  river,  nearly  opposite  the  present  site  of  the 
Norfolk  &  Western  passenger  station.  The  detail,  which  was 
composed  of  a  non-commissioned  officer  and  about  six  pri- 
vates, as  well  as  I  can  remember,  passed  the  entire  day  in 
lounging  about  the  bridge.  I  thought  it  a  little  singular  that 
no  post  of  duty  was  assigned  to  any  one,  but,  as  dark  ap- 
proached, the  sergeant  placed  me  in  the  rear  of  the  suspected 
house,  and  designated  it  as  post  No.  1.  I  walked  my  beat  in 
true  military  form.  It  was  my  first  experience  on  guard,  and 
I  expected  to  be  relieved  when  two  hours  expired.  As  the 
clock  in  Norfolk  dolefully  struck  ten,  I  expected  every  minute 
to  hear  the  welcome  "tramp,  tramp"  of  the  relief  guard,  but 
was  sadly  disappointed.    After  waiting  for  nearly  half  an  hour 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  11 

I  commenced  to  call  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  post  No.  1. 
In  vain  did  I  call,  and  the  echo  across  the  water  seemed  to 
laugh  at  my  dilemma.  I  began  to  stagger  like  a  man  intoxi- 
cated, for  want  of  sleep  almost  rendered  me  unconscious.  A 
skiff  that  had  been  pulled  up  on  the  beach,  out  of  reach  of  the 
advancing  tide,  offered  an  inviting  seat,  but  I  knew  full  well 
that,  if  I  dared  to  take  it  I  would  be  fast  asleep  in  a  few- 
minutes,  and  I  also  knew  enough  of  miltary  law  to  be  aware 
of  the  penalty  put  on  a  soldier  found  asleep  at  his  post.  The 
hour  of  eleven,  and  then  the  monontonous  strokes  of  twelve, 
came  sounding  dolefully  over  the  calm  water  of  the  river,  and 
yet  no  relief.  The  flowing  tide  crept  slowly  up  the  sandy 
beach,  the*  seeping,  sipping  sound  broke  soothingly  on  my 
nerves,  while  an  occasional  splash  from  sportive  crabs,  or  some 
big  fish  chasing  a  smaller  one,  gave  me  a  momentary  shock,  as 
I  staggered  along  my  lonely  beat.  A  light  fog  had  settled  over 
the  water,  obscuring  the  lights  of  Norfolk,  and  the  mercury 
commenced  to  drop,  making  it  necessary  to  quicken  my  step 
to  keep  up  a  good  circulation.  I  have  frequently  been  tempted 
to  calculate  the  number  of  miles  I  must  have  walked  that 
night. 

Soon  after  the  Norfolk  clock  had  sounded  two,  a  lumber 
yard  in  Portsmouth  sent  a  lurid  light  through  the  thickening 
fog,  and  the  flames  could  be  seen  darting  their  fiery  tongues 
above  the  gray  mist.  The  light  awakened  the  inmates  of  the 
house,  and  I  could  hear  slurring  remarks  made  about  the  sen- 
tinel on  the  beach.  They  were  all  females  and  children,  there- 
fore no  resentment  could  be  made  of  their  remarks,  as  they 
poked  their  heads  from  the  second  story  window.  In  about 
an  hour  the  light  died  away,  and  the  darkness  seemed  blacker 
than  before,  though  there  was  enough  light  to  enable  me  to 
observe  objects  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  distant.  I  felt  a  shock, 
as  I  dimly  saw  the  outlines  of  an  object  crouching  close  to  the 
house  wall,  and  apparently  stealthily  approaching  me.  In- 
stantly my  musket  was  "to  port"  and  the  challenge  rang  clear 
through  the  night  air,  "Who  comes  there?"  but  no  reply  fol- 
lowed.    Again  the  challenge  was  given,  with  same  results. 


i2  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Then  placing  my  gun,  I  was  about  to  draw  bead,  when  a  large 
Newfoundland  dog  gave  a  vigorous  shake,  as  if  to  assure  me 
that  he  meant  no  harm.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  feel  that  I 
had  not  murdered  a  poor  innocent  dog.  This  incident  so 
startled  me  that  it  served  to  keep  me  awake  the  rest  of  the 
night,  and,  an  hour  later,  the  gray  streaks  of  the  eastern  sky 
gave  the  welcome  sign  of  daybreak. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light,  I  availed  myself  of  the  use  of  a 
pump  in  the  yard.  On  the  platform  surrounding  it  was  a  tin 
basin,  in  which  I  put  fresh  water,  and  arranged  my  handker- 
chief for  a  towel.  As  I  stooped  to  bathe  a  sudden  gust  of  wind 
blew  the  cape  of  my  overcoat  over  my  head,  and  I  made  a 
lunge  for  my  musket,  thinking  someone  was  in  the  act  of 
seizing  me. 

When  the  sun  arose,  I  felt  at  liberty  to  leave  my  post  and 
report  to  the  captain  of  my  company,  who,  in  military  routine 
reported  the  matter  to  Major  Weisiger,  and  I  suppose  the 
non-commissioned  officer  was  reprimanded.  Captain  Thos. 
Bond  ordered  my  exemption  from  guard  duty  for  two  days. 

A  few  days  later  our  battalion  was  sent  to  a  spot  opposite 
Gosport  Navy  Yard,  called  at  that  time  "  St.  Helena"  (now 
used  by  U.  S.  Government  as  a  drill  ground),  where  a  large 
number  of  columbiads  had  all  been  spiked  by  driving  rat-tail 
files  into  the  vent  holes,  then  breaking  them  off.  We  were 
provided  with  axes,  mattocks,  etc.,  and  told  to  clear  away 
the  undergrowth.  While  thus  engaged,  Orderly  Sergeant 
Chas.  Friend  informed  me  that  Major  Weisiger  wished  me 
to  report  at  his  tent  at  once.  I  did  not  have  to  be  reminded 
again,  for  I  was  only  too  glad  to  relinquish  the  job  I  then  had. 

On  entering  the  Major's  tent  he  handed  me  an  official  en- 
velope and  told  me  to  take  it  to  Colonel  Anderson,  chief  of 
General  Huger's  staff,  in  the  custom  house,  over  in  Norfolk. 
A  ferryman  soon  rowed  me  across  the  river.  On  presenting 
the  document  to  Colonel  Anderson,  he  wrote  a  line  or  so  on  it, 
and  told  me  to  take  it  to  Col.  J.  C.  Pemberton,  chief  of  ordnance 
on  the  floor  above.  I  found  this  officer  busily  engaged  with 
several   artillery   officers.     When   an   opportunity  offered,   I 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  13 

handed  the  paper  to  him.  After  reading  it,  he  courteously  bade 
me  to  be  seated.  I  was  still  grossly  ignorant  of  the  purport 
of  the  message,  and  supposed  Colonel  Pemberton  was  writing 
a  reply.  When  through,  he  told  me  to  write  five  copies  of  a 
general  order  relating  to  requisitions  for  artillery  supplies. 
This  gave  me  the  first  insight  to  my  position,  and  made  me 
feel  quite  elated  to  be  removed  from  the  hardships  of  camp 
life  to  a  nice  office  in  the  custom  house. 

I  found  Colonel  Pemberton  to  be  a  thorough  gentleman, 
who,  though  born  in  Philadelphia,  had  married  a  Norfolk  lady, 
and  determined  to  throw  his  destiny  with  the  South.  He  was 
a  distinguished  graduate  of  West  Point,  and  was  serving  in 
the  regular  army  when  the  war  commenced.  In  less  than  two 
months  after  I  was  assigned  to  his  office  he  was  promoted  to 
Brigadier  General,  and  ordered  to  Smithfield,  in  command  of 
the  First  Brigage  of  Huger's  Division.  I  was  left  in  charge 
of  his  office  in  the  custom  house  for  several  weeks,  until  Capt. 
W.  V.  Taylor  was  appointed  ordnance  officer.  I  have  always 
thought  that  my  selection  to  this  place  by  Colonel  Weisiger 
was  due  to  my  remaining  on  post  without  relief  for  ten  con- 
secutive hours. 

After  the  appointment  of  Captain  Taylor,  General  Pember- 
ton made  requisition  for  me  to  be  sent  to  Smithfield,  where  I 
was  assigned  to  duty  in  the  office  of  his  Adjutant  General, 
Capt.  Horace  Morrison.  I  found  Smithfield  to  be  a  most  charm- 
ing spot.  The  sociability  of  the  cultured  people,  both  young 
and  old,  captivated  me,  and  I  was  loath  to  leave,  when  General 
Pemberton  was  promoted  to  Lieutenant  General,  and  sent  to 
Pocataligo,  S.  C. ;  Gen.  Colston  took  command,  after  the  de- 
parture of  General  Pemberton,  and  I  returned  to  Captain 
Taylor  in  Norfolk,  and  remained  with  him  until  the  evacuation 
of  that  city. 

When  the  weather  permitted,  I  would  go  out  to  the  en- 
trenched camp,  on  Harrison's  farm,  on  Saturday  afternoons, 
and  spend  Sunday  with  my  comrades.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
visits,  when  the  Merrimac  made  its  attack  and  sunk  the  Con- 
gress and  Cumberland.     Sunday  morning  nearly  the  entire 


14  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

camp  made  its  way  to  a  place  between  Sewell's  and  Lambert's 
Points,  and  witnessed  the  naval  battle  between  the  Monitor 
and  the  Merrimac.  The  Minnesota  was  aground  in  shoal  water, 
but  continued  to  fire  on  the  Merrimac.  My  duties  in  the  ord- 
nance department  frequently  called  me  to  the  Navy  Yard,  and 
I  always  felt  a  great  interest  in  this  iron  craft,  and  never  failed 
to  visit  it.  I  also  visited  all  places  where  batteries  were  placed, 
to  obtain  a  report  of  the  ammunition,  etc.,  on  hand.  It  is  not 
generally  known  that  we  had  two  immense  masked  guns 
mounted  at  Sewell's  Point.  I  am  under  the  impression  we 
never  used  them. 

On  the  roof  of  the  Custom  House  was  a  signal  station  in 
charge  of  Capt.  "Jim"  Milligan,  and  I  frequently  spent  an  hour 
or  two  in  the  afternoon  watching  the  two  blockading  ships, 
Congress  and  Cumberland,  at  the  mouth  of  the  James  River, 
which  were  later  destroyed  by  the  Merrimac. 

In  April,  1862,  I  left  Norfolk  on  the  last  train  that  left  the 
city,  amid  great  excitement.  The  Navy  Yard  was  on  fire,  and 
the  barracks  of  the  entrenched  camp,  a  few  miles  out  of  the 
city,  was  also  on  fire.  The  man  who  applied  the  torch  to  the 
latter  dashed  up  to  the  train  as  it  was  moving  off,  and  left  his 
horse,  riderless,  on  the  side  of  Lake  Mahone.  This  lake  has 
since  been  filled  in,  and  several  railroad  tracks  pass  over  the 
former  space.  It  was  after  dark  when  our  train  arrived  in 
Petersburg.  Our  feelings  were  not  so  buoyant  and  hopeful  as 
when  we  left  the  same  place  a  little  more  than  a  year  before. 

After  remaining  in  Petersburg  a  week  or  ten  days,  our 
office  was  removed  to  Richmond.  The  battle  of  Seven  Pines 
coming  off  soon  after  our  arrival,  and  meeting  many  of  my 
company  comrades,  some  of  whom  were  wounded  in  this  battle, 
I  determined  to  rejoin  my  command,  then  located  in  White 
Oak  Swamp,  about  fifteen  miles  below  Richmond,  on  the 
Chickahominy  River.  My  determination  to  do  so,  came  about 
after  thinking  seriously  over  what  my  record  would  be  when 
the  war  closed,  and  I  could  only  show  a  "bomb-proof  position." 
The  next  morning  I  shouldered  my  musket  and  started  off  to 
find  the  12th  Virginia  Regiment.    I  had  a  long  and  wearisome 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  15 

journey,  that  hot  June  day,  and,  when  I  entered  camp  in  the 
afternoon  a  crowd  soon  surrounded  me,  to  know  what  induced 
me  to  give  up  such  a  position.  I  told  them  that  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  it  recorded  in  the  history  of  this  war,  that  I  did  not 
share  in  any  of  the  honors  of  the  field  and  its  hardships.  Some 
of  the  comrades  laughingly  remarked  that  they  would  willingly 
pay  a  thousand  dollars  for  such  a  soft  place. 

I  found  many  sick,  supposedly  to  be  the  result  of  impure 
drinking  water,  as  nearly  every  mess  owned  a  spring,  or,  more 
properly  speaking,  a  miniature  well  made  by  excavating  about 
two  feet  of  earth,  and  finding  one  foot  of  pure  looking  water. 
We  were  poorly  supplied  with  tents,  and  very  much  crowded. 

Three  generally  slept  under  the  blanket,  and  when  one  of 
the  number  wished  to  turn  over,  would  call  out  "right  face" 
or  "left  face,"  as  occasion  required. 

Every  morning,  before  daylight,  a  full  company  was  de- 
tailed to  pass  our  picket  line,  and  "feel  the  enemy,"  the  object 
being  to  prevent  their  slipping  off  without  our  knowledge. 
It  came  to  our  turn  about  once  a  week,  and,  as  we  moved  off 
in  the  dim  light  of  dawning  day,  we  were  not  permitted  to 
carry  a  canteen,  or  speak  a  word  above  a  whisper,  after  passing 
our  pickets,  the  intention  being  to  move  up  as  stealthily  as 
possible  to  the  enemy's  picket  line.  Frequently,  we  would 
approach  within  a  few  yards  of  them,  before  we  were  discov- 
ered, when  a  quick  challenge  would  come,  followed  by  a  volley 
from  their  rifles.  We  seldom  had  anyone  hurt,  for  they  would 
fire  at  random,  then  "skeedaddle,"  and  we  would  return  to  our 
camp  in  time  for  breakfast.  This  was  kept  up  until  June 
24th,  when  certain  activities  in  camp  gave  evidence  of  ap- 
proaching trouble.  On  the  night  of  the  24th,  our  picket  line 
was  extended  half  a  mile  beyond  its  former  position,  but  not 
until  some  time  after  dark,  the  utmost  quiet  being  observed, 
and  instructions  given  in  a  whisper,  from  one  to  the  other. 
Our  challenge  was  changed  from,  "Who  comes  there?"  to  a 
low  whistle,  and  the  countersign  was  two  low  whistles.  In- 
structions were  to  fire  on  anyone  who  did  not  give  this  signal. 
We  were  deployed  to  the  left  of  the  Darbytown  Road,  through 


16  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

a  dense  forest,  and  placed  two  and  two,  at  intervals  of  about 
twenty  steps.  It  proved  a  long  and  weary  watch,  without  in- 
cident, save  the  rushing  sound  of  an  immense  rocket  as  it 
soared  on  high  through  the  darkened  sky,  and  exploded  when 
nearly  out  of  sight.  My  companion  and  I  grew  quite  nervous, 
fearing  it  was  some  signal  of  the  enemy  to  make  an  attack, 
but,  later,  on  our  return  to  camp,  learned  that  it  was  our  signal 
corps  notifying  Stonewall  Jackson,  who  was  then  arriving  at 
Hanover  Court  House,  where  the  right  wing  of  our  forces  were 
located.  An  eclipse  of  the  moon  occurred  about  2  :oo  o'clock 
and  the  dense  foliage  of  the  forest  obscured  its  sight  and  pro- 
duced a  creepy  feeling  by  associating  it  with  the  mystery  of 
the  rocket. 

On  the  morning  of  June  25,  1862,  we  broke  camp,  in  the 
White  Oak  Swamp,  and  marched  cautiously  down  the  Darby- 
town  Road,  for  about  two  miles,  when  we  deployed  to  the  left 
and  formed  into  line  behind  a  lot  of  trees  that  had  been  cut, 
the  sharp  edges  of  which  were  pointing  from  us.  This,  I  sup- 
pose, was  done  by  our  engineering  corps,  to  protect  us  from 
an  anticipated  attack,  but  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before 
the  enemy  made  their  appearance,  and  they  were  content  to 
keep  shy  of  our  formidable  abattis,  but  unlimbered  several 
pieces  of  artillery  and  opened  fire  on  us.  After  a  few  shots 
were  made,  a  command  on  our  extreme  right  made  a  rush,  and 
captured  two  of  their  guns,  and  then  the  order  was  given  for 
us  to  follow  into  the  fray.  We  double-quicked  to  a  point  be- 
yond where  the  two  pieces  were  captured,  and  halted  on  the 
edge  of  a  thick  growth  of  small  pines,  where  a  worm  fence 
extended  along  the  border.  We  could  not  see  the  enemy,  but 
the  bullets  were  knocking  the  bark  from  the  small  pines.  In 
a  few  minutes,  someone  called  out,  "Look  to  the  left!  the 
Yankees  are  flanking  us!"  A  large  body  was  seen,  double- 
quicking  to  our  rear,  evidently  trying  to  cut  us  off  from  the 
main  corps,  as  only  a  battalion  had  been  rushed  to  the  point 
near  the  pines.  We  were  ordered  to  "fall  back,"  and,  as  we 
did  so,  fresh  troops  came  to  our  rescue,  and  the  enemy  wheeled 
and  fled  faster  than  they  came. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  17 

As  we  were  falling  back,  I  felt  a  mortal  dread  of  being 
shot  in  the  back  and  I  made  most  of  my  return  facing  the 
enemy,  by  turning  my  eyes  to  the  rear  and  watching  the 
lay  of  the  ground. 

This  was  my  first  experience  under  fire,  and  my  nerves 
tingled  so  that  night  that  it  was  very  late  before  I  could  fall 
asleep.  Our  bed  was  on  the  ground,  with  a  rubber  cloth  to 
lie  on.     • 

Next  morning,  we  learned  that,  while  we  were  making  an 
attack  on  the  enemy's  extreme  left  wing,  General  Jackson 
had  thrown  his  forces  against  McClellan's  right,  at  Mechan- 
icsville,  and  doubled  them  up  in  such  form  as  to  hurl  them  in 
a  pell  mell  rout. 

As  well  as  I  remember,  we  returned  to  our  "White  Oak 
Swamp"  camp  and  remained  until  the  morning  of  the  27th, 
when  we  left  it  forever.  We  were  deployed,  in  line  of  battle, 
through  the  woods  on  the  left  of  the  Darbytown  road.  No 
doubt,  other  forces  were  marching  in  the  same  order  on  the 
right  of  this  road,  but,  as  to  this,  I  do  not  know.  I  do  know, 
however,  that,  by  a  sharp  turn  in  the  roadway,  our  right  wing 
was  forced  across,  when  suddenly  a  volley  of  musketry  was 
popped  away  at  it.  As  our  colors  were  not  in  view  we  were 
mistaken  for  the  enemy,  and  haste  was  made  to  display  them. 
Fortunately,  the  bullets  did  not  reach  us,  and,  after  a  short 
delay,  we  again  started  on  our  march. 

A  short  while  before  dark,  our  picket  line,  that  was  about 
thirty  yards  in  our  front,  was  fired  upon  by  the  enemy.  The 
bullets  whistled  over  our  heads,  and  the  dry  twigs  from  the 
pine  trees  dropped  in  profusion,  but  no  one  was  hurt. 

We  camped  for  the  night,  sleeping  in  the  woods.  The  next 
morning,  we  resumed  our  line  of  march,  but,  owing  to  the 
topography  of  the  country,  our  column  kept  the  roadway. 
Soon  we  encountered  large  trees  that  had  been  cut,  and 
lapped  across  the  road  by  the  enemy,  but  our  engineer  corps, 
which  preceded  us,  had  them  removed.  We  also  discovered  that 
a  force  of  our  cavalry  was  in  our  front,  and  consternation  was 


18  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

produced  for  a  few  minutes,  when  we  had  to  hastily  clear  the 
road  to  prevent  faeing  trampled  over.  They  came  at  a  rapid 
gallop,  and  passed  to  our  rear.  We  thought  they  were  "show- 
ing the  white  feather/'  and  very  uncomplimentary  remarks 
were  thrown  at  them.  Later  we  learned  that  it  was  a  ruse 
to  draw  the  enemy  into  an  ambush,  but  they  did  not  drop 
into  it. 

Our  progress  had  been  very  slow  this  day,  and  the  day 
following  was  laggardly  pushed  along. 

Rumors  were  current  that  Jackson"  s  command  had  routed 
the  enemy,  and  that  they  wTere  in  a  panic,  retreating  down 
the  Charles  City  Road.  In  the  afternoon,  we  had  evidence  of 
a  complete  rout :  knapsacks  were  scattered  along  the  way, 
rifles  were  thrown  down,  or  broken  by  striking  the  butts 
against  trees,  and  blankets  and  camp  equipage  marked  their 
utter  panic. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  1st  of  July,  weary  and  dust-covered, 
sweltering  under  the  hot  sun,  we  could  hear  the  distant  boom- 
ing of  cannon.  Orders  must  have  arrived  for  us  to  hasten  on, 
as  we  macle  better  time  than  on  any  previous  day.  Near 
4  :oo  o'clock  we  debouched  in  £n  open  field  on  our  left,  and 
crossed  it  at  right  oblique,  passing  a  battery,  the  guns  of 
which  were  still  smoking,  but  temporarily  quiet.  An  ex- 
ploded caisson  gave  evidence  of  hot  work. 

The  12th  Virginia  formed  a  part  of  Mahone's  Brigade.  The 
others,  as  well  as  I  remember,  were  the  6th,  16th  and  41st. 
We  were  halted  immediately  in  front  of  a  wooded  crest,  that 
overlooked  a  deep  ravine. 

I  suppose  ten  minutes  elapsed  before  General  Magruder, 
followed  by  a  retinue  of  aids,  galloped  up  to  General  Mahone, 
and,  in  a  loud  voice,  commanded  him  to  hold  the  position  he 
then  occupied,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes  and  ordered 
Mahone  to  charge,  and  capture  the  enemy's  batteries  on  our 
front,  at  all  hazards.  General  Mahone  then  ordered  regiments, 
right  and  left,  to  close  on  the  center,  unsling  knapsacks,  and 
prepare  to  charge.  This  command  was  repeated  all  along  the 
line. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  19 

Knapsacks  had  been  found  cumbersome  on  our  march,  and 
were  generally  abandoned.  We  had  come  into  possession  of 
neat  rubber  cloths  thrown  away  by  the  Federal  army  on  its 
hasty  retreat  and  our  blanket,  with  change  of  clothing,  was 
wrapped  in  this,  the  two  ends  tied,  and  thrown  over  our  left 
shoulder,  passing  diagonally  over  the  breast,  to  the  right  hip. 
This  enabled  us  to  keep  our  blanket  and  change  of  clothing 
with  us  on  the  firing  line,  and  proved  a  great  blessing  to  us 
that  night,  as  will  be  mentioned  hereafter. 

General  Mahone  and  some  of  his  staff  left  us  for  a  short 
time,  to  reconnoitre  the  lay  of  the  land  over  which  we  were  to 
make  the  charge.  And  it  was  well  he  did.  In  place  of  leading 
us  over  the  plateau  just  over  the  ravine,  where  the  ground  was 
literally  strewn  with  the  killed  and  wounded  of  five  brigades, 
which  had  charged  these  batteries  before  our  arrival,  and  had 
been  repulsed  with  fearful  loss,  we  were  moved  into  the  skirt  of 
the  woods,  then  down  the  course  of  a  little  stream  that  was 
now  discolored  with  the  blood  of  the  wounded  men  who  were 
able  to  crawl  to  it. 

On  reaching  the  foothills  of  the  plateau  mentioned,  we 
marched  at  the  base  with  a  meadow  on  our  right  about  one- 
fourth  of  a  mile  wide,  on  the  skirts  of  which  was  a  dense  forest. 
Here  the  enemy's  sharpshooters  were  located,  but  their  fire 
was  very  inaccurate;  and,  I  think,  only  one  of  our  command 
(Lieut.  Anthony  Keely)  was  wounded,  until  we  reached  the 
top  on  the  hill  on  which  over  two  hundred  cannon  were  planted. 

When  we  started  on  the  move,  at  the  base  of  the  plateau, 
we  encountered  such  large  brier  bushes,  that  our  military  or- 
ganization was  thoroughly  broken,  and  every  man  rushed  for- 
ward as  best  he  could. 

Our  line  pushed  a  short  distance  over  the  crest,  but  the  fire 
of  the  enemy  became  so  hot  we  were  forced  to  take  refuge  just 
under  the  brow;  and  from  this  place  of  vantage  we  continued 
to  rise  and  fire,  then  to  drop  down  to  reload.  We  were  th'en 
using  the  Springfield  musket  of  sixty-nine  calibre.  Three  buck- 
shots were  fastened  in  front  of  the  ball.  We  tore  the  paper 
powder  ends  off  with  our  teeth,  then  rammed  the  charge  home 


20  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

with  the  rod,  and  last  placed  the  percussion  cap  on  the  tube. 
All  this  required  time  and  caution. 

The  dense  smoke  from  the  rapid  artillery  and  musketry  fire 
formed  a  canopy  and  would  occasionally  obstruct  a  view  of 
the  enemy. 

Close  by  me  on  the  right  stood  LeRoy  Edwards,  of  the 
Richmond  Grays.  Symington,  of  the  same  company,  received 
a  bullet  in  his  head  and  dropped  dead  close  by.  Blanks,  of  the 
city  guards,  also  fell  near  me,  with  a  bullet  through  his  heart. 
Lieutenant  George  Hawks,  of  Company  C,  was  shot  through 
his  lungs,  and  Sergeant  Ben  Grasset  was  badly  wounded. 

There  were  many  others,  but  I  can't  recall  their  names. 

The  roar  of  the  artillery  was  such  that  our  firing  was 
hardly  audible.  When  night  came  on  I  had  only  five  car- 
tridges left,  which  indicated  that  my  musket  had  been  dis- 
charged twenty-seven  times  at  the  enemy. 

After  dark,  while  our  line  remained  under  the  crest  of 
Malvern  Hill,  the  artillery  of  the  enemy  continued  sending 
shot  and  shell  far  to  our  rear.  The  blazing  sabot  illuminated 
the  sky,  and  shed  a  weird  light  over  the  ghastly  field  strewn 
with  the  dead  and  dying  of  the  chivalry  of  the  South ;  screams 
and  groans,  mingled  with  the  roar  of  guns,  made  a  sickening 
sound  that  can  never  be  forgotten. 

About  9:00  o'clock  the  artillery  fire  had  ceased,  and  the 
Federals,  with  innumerable  lanterns,  were  searching  our 
front  for  their  dead  and  wounded. 

Our  line  on  first  ascending  the  hill  pushed  thirty  or  forty 
yards  over  the  crest,  and  one  of  our  color  guard  was  shot 
through  the  hip,  and  left  where  he  fell.  Others  may  have 
been  killed  or  wounded,  but  it  was  impossible  to  tell.  I  only 
know  that,  with  three  other  companions,  we  ventured  through 
our  picket  line,  in  search  of  the  above  mentioned  comrade. 
The  enemy,  with  their  lanterns,  looked  as  numerous  as  light- 
ning bugs  in  a  meadow  on  a  June  night,  and,  being  only  about 
fifty  yards  distant,  the  reflected  light  aided  us  to  find  our 
companion.    We  had  nothing  but  a  rubber  cloth  to  place  be- 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  21 

neath,  and  in  attempting  to  raise  him  the  pain  was  so  great 
that  he  screamed  in  agony,  "Put  me  down!  Put  me  down!" 
Our  efforts,  in  subdued  tones,  to  quiet  him  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  guard  attending  the  Federal  ambulance  corps,  and 
a  quick  fire  of  musketry  opened  upon  us.  We  laid  down  beside 
our  wounded  friend,  to  avoid  the  flying  bullets,  which  fortun- 
ately passed  harmlessly  by. 

In  the  meantime  our  picket  line  resented  the  fire  from  the 
Federal  front,  and  returned  it  with  energy.  For  a  few  minutes 
it  had  every  appearance  of  a  night  battle. 

We  covered  our  companion  with  a  blanket,  and  commenced 
a  perilous  return  to  our  command.  The  night  was  very  dark, 
and  that,  with  the  excited  condition  of  our  picket  line,  made  it 
necessary  to  approach  very  cautiously.  Crawling  stealthily, 
and  in  a  whisper  saying,  "Twelfth  Virginia!  Twelfth  Vir- 
ginia !"  we  finally  passed  into  our  lines  again. 

Soon  after  our  return  we  were  confident  fresh  troops  were 
coming  to  our  assistance,  caused  by  the  pickets  firing  at  each 
other.  The  command,  "Forward  guide  center!  Charge"  rang 
clear  above  the  groans  and  screams  of  the  wounded;  but  this 
proved  to  be  some  officer  in  the  delirium  of  pain,  repeating,  no 
doubt,  the  last  order  before  being  wounded. 

I  can  vividly  recall  seeing  General  William  Mahone  and 
General  Wright,  of  Georgia,  standing  by  a  small  fire,  at  the 
side  of  a  gully  a  short  distance  in  our  rear.  This  was  about 
10  :oo  o'clock,  and  it  had  grown  quite  chilly.  Those  of  us  who 
were  fortunate  enough  to  have  rubber  cloths  found  them  very 
useful  before  morning,  as  it  commenced  raining,  and  before 
daylight  the  ground  was  saturated  where  we  had  slept. 

Soon  after  daybreak  we  looked  over  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
where  we  could  plainly  see  a  line  of  cavalry  facing  us.  They 
had  on  long  overcoats,  with  broad  capes,  and  looked  fierce  and 
formidable,  causing  a  feeling  of  uneasiness,  for  we  were  in  too 
sad  a  plight  a  resist  a  charge.  Shortly  afterwards  we  heard  the 
tramping  of  horses  and  the  jingling  of  swords;  to  our  delight 
they  were  retreating  from  the  field,  and  this  raised  our  droop- 
ing spirits  to  a  point  of  enthusiasm,  as  it  left  us  the  victors. 


22  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

During  the  night  we  had  seen  signals  moving  up  and  down 
on  what  we  supposed  to  be  signal  towers,  but,  with  daylight, 
found  the  enemy's  gun  boats  were  in  the  river  below,  and  this 
accounted  for  some  of  the  immense  shells  that  exploded  during 
the  battle  of  the  previous  afternoon. 

Before  leaving  the  field  that  rainy  morning  many  of  us 
walked  over  a  portion  of  the  ground  where  the  battle  had  raged 
fiercest.  At  same  places  we  found  Southern  dead  among  the 
Northern,  showing  where  the  tide  of  battle  ebbed  and  flowed. 
Near  a  gate,  that  opened  from  the  woods  to  the  plateau,  was 
where  one  of  our  batteries  opened,  but  soon  met  with  disaster, 
as  every  horse  seemed  to  have  been  killed,  several  pieces  dis- 
mounted, and  a  large  number  of  men  lying  stiff  and  cold  in 
death. 

When  we  marched  about  one  mile  back,  to  prepare  our 
breakfast,  we  passed  many  ghasty  sights ;  men  evidently  struck 
by  fragments  of  shell,  or  solid  shot,  tearing  away  the  face  from 
the  body,  others  in  a  sitting  posture,  with  head  thrown  back, 
and  the  rain  dripping  from  their  cold,  pallid  features.  Oh,  who 
can  wish  for  war,  when  such  scenes  are  burnt  into  the  brain ! 
My  eyes  are  dim  with  tears  as  I  recall  these  heartrending 
scenes. 

After  arms  were  stacked  ranks  were  broken,  to  obtain  what 
we  could  for  breakfast.  Our  commissary  had  been  enriched 
by  many  articles  captured  from  the  enemy;  and  we  fared  com- 
paratively well.  Owing  to  the  cold  and  wet  clothing,  a  gill  of 
whiskey  was  issued  to  each  man.  It  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
swallowed  a  drink  of  straight  whiskey,  but  it  did  me  a  sight 
of  good,  for  it  warmed  my  system,  and  gave  courage  to  hunt 
up  wood.  Soon  a  rousing  fire  dried  our  clothing,  and  appetites 
were  sharp  for  breakfast. 

As  well  as  I  remember,  the  rain  continued  at  intervals  for 
two  days,  and  on  the  third  our  command  was  marched  to  the 
south  side  of  James  River,  crossing  on  a  pontoon  bridge,  not 
far  from  Drewry's  Bluff. 

While  resting  near  Drewry's  Bluff  my  comrade,  Sain 
Hatcher,  related  the  following  amusing  story  while  lying  on 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  23 

the  ground  under  the  same  blanket.  "There  lived  in  a  county 
near  Petersburg  a  young  lady  of  unusual  pedantry,  whom  we 
will  call  Miss  Hyesahaldibaldi  Leroy  Goodson  and  her  visavis, 
Mr.  Scully,  were  at  a  neighborhood  dance.  Mr.  Scully  re- 
garded himself  as  well  up  in  the  intricate  terpsichorean  arts 
and  didos  of  the  time.  After  performing  several  difficult 
figures  he  asked  Miss  Hyesahaldibaldi  Leroy  Goodson  whom 
she  considered  the  best  dancer  on  the  floor.  Miss  Hyesahaldi- 
baldi Leroy  Goodson  gave  a  slight  clearing  of  her  throat,  a 
proper  poise  of  her  head  and  said,  'Well,  Mr.  Scully,  I  must 
say  with  a  sound  mind  and  precious  memory  that  if  dancing 
consists  in  a  multiplicity  of  steps,  Mr.  Scully  can  and  will 
supererogate  to  himself  the  superiority,  or  the  inferiority,  or 
the  dexterity  of  not  being  outdanced  by  anyone  on  the  floor.' 
Poor  Mr.  Scully  was  so  dumbfounded  by  the  flow  of  ambiguity, 
that  he  mopped  his  red  face  with  his  handkerchief  and  only 
remarked,  'It  is  quite  hot  to-night.'  "  The  relating  of  this  in- 
cident put  me  in  such  a  quiver  of  amusement  I  could  not 
sleep  until  I  had  memorized  every  word. 

We  remained  there  until  the  middle  of  August,  1862,  when 
we  marched  over  the  Petersburg  Turnpike  into  Richmond, 
where  we  boarded  box  freight  cars,  and  landed  at  Louisa  Court 
House  about  10  o'clock  at  night.  No  provision  for  seats  were 
in  the  box  cars;  consequently,  we  had  to  stand  or  sit  on  the 
floor,  a  very  uncomfortable  position,  you  may  know. 

On  arriving  at  the  point  above  mentioned  we  were  per- 
mitted to  find  a  resting  place  wherever  we  could.  My  file-clos- 
ing companion,  Sam  Hatcher,  and  I  spread  our  rubber  cloths 
(one  on  the  floor,  the  other  to  cover  with)  on  the  porch  of  a 
store  near  the  railroad,  and  were  soon  in  a  sound  sleep. 

About  ten  o'clock  next  morning  we  were  marching  through 
the  Green  Spring  section,  and  just  before  noon,  while  the 
command  was  enjoying  a  few  minutes'  rest,  a  lad  of  about 
fourteen  years  old,  on  horseback,  with  a  basket  in  front  rode 
leisurely  along  the  line,  stopping  at  intervals  making  an  inquiry. 
When  about  twenty  yards  away  I  heard  my  name  called,  and 
at  once  recognized  my  young  friend,   B.   Rush  Cowherd,  of 


24  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Columbia,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  his  aunt,  Miss  Amanda  Smoot, 
and  had  been  commissioned  by  her  to  take  a  basket  of  daintily 
prepared  provisions,  and  a  bottle  of  fresh  buttermilk  to  the 
writer.  I  will  not  deny  that  my  pen  had  informed  her  of  the 
fact  that  the  command  to  which  I  was  attached  would  pass 
through  her  county,  and  her  thoughtful  kindness,  in  remem- 
bering me  in  such  a  generous  way,  has  often  been  the  source 
of  happy  thoughts  of  those  eventful  days.  Selecting  a  few  of 
my  intimate  companions,  we  repaired  to  a  nearby  spring  and 
enjoyed  the  tempting  viands,  all  voting  a  thousand  thanks  to 
the  fair  donor  and  noble  little  messenger,  who  is  now  a  matured 
man  of  family  and  a  bank  president  in  Columbia. 

Our  march  through  Louisa,  Orange,  Culpeper,  Rappahan- 
nock, Fauquier  and  Loudoun,  where  we  crossed  the  Potomac, 
a  few  miles  north  of  Leesburg  was  attended  with  many  hard- 
ships, which  will  be  mentioned  to  the  best  of  my  recollection. 
Our  daily  marching  over  the  hot  and  dusty  roads  blistered  the 
back  of  our  necks  so  that  it  was  painful  to  raise  the  head,  and 
our  warm  clothing  chafed  our  limbs  to  a  pitiable  condition, 
while  our  feet  were  tortured  by  the  heat  and  dust  to  such  an 
extent  that  we  were  forced  to  walk  in  bare  feet  with  shoes  tied 
together,  and  thrown  over  our  rifles.  You  will  observe  that  we 
were  now  armed  with  Enfield  rifles,  most  of  which  were  the 
trophies  of  war,  captured  from  the  the  enemy  during  the  seven 
days'  fighting  around  Richmond.  While  marching  under  the 
sweltering  August  skies,  some  wag  would  exclaim,  "O,  my 
country,  how  I  bleed  for  thee !"  Immediately  it  would  be  taken 
up,  and  repeated  down  the  line,  then  back  again,  but  never  in 
a  seditious  or  complaining  way,  for  a  truer  or  more  loyal  set  of 
men  never  marched  beneath  a  banner.  Often  the  heat  would  be- 
come so  unendurable  that  a  halt  would  be  called,  and  rest  taken 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  would  resume  our  marching 
until  late  at  night,  and  start  again  early  in  the  morning.  Fre- 
quently our  wagon  train  was  several  days  behind,  owing  to  the 
congested  condition  of  the  roads,  and  we  had  to  subsist  largely 
upon  what  we  could  obtain  along  the  road. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  25 

I  often  wonder  is  Capt.  Wm.  E.  Cameron,  Adjutant  of  the 
12th  Virginia,  remembers  meeting  me  as  I  was  emerging  from 
a  cornfield  with  my  arms  full  of  rather  short  roasting  ears? 
Assuming  as  much  dignity  as  possible,  and  trying  to  look  very 
stern,  he  said,  "Phil,  General  Mahone  has  sent  word  to  arrest 
every  man  found  in  this  cornfield. "  I  smilingly  handed  him 
half  a  dozen  of  my  trophies  with  the  remark  that  "they  are 
rather  small,  but  hope  you  may  enjoy  them."  There  was  a  mis- 
chievous twinkle  in  his  eye  that  he  could  not  conceal. 

Four  or  five  days  after  leaving  Louisa  Court  House  we  ar- 
rived at  the  little  town  of  Jeffersonton,  in  Rappahannock, 
where  we  made  several  attempts  to  cross  the  river  of  the  same 
name,  but  the  enemy's  artillery  kept  up  a  hot  fire,  and  the 
impression  gained  upon  us  that  we  were  aiming  to  deceive  the 
enemy  by  pretensions. 

I  recall  very  vividly  a  day's  march  through  Culpeper;  no 
water  could  be  had  along  the  road,  and  the  dust  had  so  com- 
pletely covered  us  that  it  was  only  by  the  voice  that  we  could 
recognize  one  another.  It  was  about  9:00  or  10:00  o'clock  at 
night  when  we  reached  the  little  village  of  Stevensburg,  and  a 
wild  rush  was  made  to  secure  drinking  water. 

So  many  troops  were  ahead  of  us  that  the  wells  were  ex- 
hausted, and  the  bucket  would  have  to  remain  at  the  bottom 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  before  drawing,  and  then  it  had  a  milky 
color,  as  seen  by  the  starlight. 

Next  morning  on  our  line  of  march  we  could  see  the  body 
of  a  spy  dangling  from  a  tree  on  the  roadside.  Rumor  said  he 
brought  General  Jenkins  a  forged  order,  directing  him  to  cross 
the  Rapidan  at  another  point  than  Raccoon  Ford,  which  would 
have  led  our  troops  into  an  ambuscade. 

As  well  as  I  can  now  remember,  our  next  resting  place  was 
the  little  town  of  Jeffersonton,  short  distance  south  of  the 
Rappahannock  River. 

Here  we  were  informed  that  the  advance  guard  of  Pope's 
great  army  had  arrived  in  Warrenton  on  the  north  side  of  the 
river,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  sent  over  a  few  shell  as 
feelers. 


26  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Col.  Frank  Huger's  battery  was  ordered  to  reply  and  the 
twelfth  Virginia  sent  to  its  support  while  in  action ;  the  inter- 
vening forest  prevented  the  gunners  from  seeing  each  other, 
therefore  the  enemy's  shell  came  sailing  through  the  sky  at 
random  (they  were  nearly  spent)  and  waddled  as  if  they  would 
fall  on  our  line,  but  happily  they  would  pass  some  distance  to 
our  rear. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  left  the  little  town,  after  making 
several  feints  as  if  we  intended  to  force  a  passage  of  the  river. 

We  marched  in  a  northwestern  direction,  and  shortly  after 
dark,  a  light  rain  commencing  to  fall,  we  were  halted,  presum- 
ably for  the  night.  Rubber  cloths  were  stretched  on  sticks, 
stuck  firmly  in  the  ground  and  jolly  songs  were  sung,  as  we 
dried  the  forest  leaves  around  the  fire,  under  our  improvised 
shelters.  In  due  course  of  time,  we  snugly  laid  down  to  rest 
on  our  bed  of  leaves,  and  soon  in  a  sound  sleep.  Then,  sud- 
denly, we  were  startled  by  the  long  rattle  of  the  rolling  drum, 
quickly  formed  into  line,  and  marched  off  through  the  drizzling 
rain  along  a  dark  and  muddy  road.  We  forded  the  Rappahan- 
nock several  miles  above  the  place  where  we  attempted  to 
cross  in  the  morning. 

It  was  now  realized  that  we  were  on  a  forced  march,  to 
turn  the  right  flank  of  Pope's  Grand  Army,  and  we  were  mak- 
ing quick  time.  The  third  night  after  leaving  Jeffersonton 
we  were  passing  through  Thoroughfare  Gap,  and  about  10 
o'clock  the  order  was  given  to  rest  for  two  hours,  but  not  to 
remove  accoutrements.  At  midnight  we  started  off  again  and 
continued  our  weary  tramp,  so  exhausted  we  could  hardly  walk, 
and  when  a  temporary  halt  was  caused  by  some  obstruction 
our  men  would  fall  instantly  to  the  ground  for  rest.  Before 
daylight  we  were  passing  over  the  battle  ground  of  the  day 
previous,  where  Jackson's  men  had  been  pushing  the  enemy, 
and  dead  bodies  could  be  seen  every  few  yards. 

Just  as  day  was  breaking  we  were  halted,  and  instantly 
sought  rest  in  a  skirt  of  pines  along  the  roadside ;  and,  I  sup- 
pose, four  fifths  of  the  men  were  asleep  in  three  minutes.    But 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  27 

our  rest  was  of  short  duration :  in  a  whisper  down  the  line  came 
the  word  that  we  were  on  our  advanced  picket  line,  and  the 
enemy,  in  large  numbers,  was  not  fifty  yards  away.  We  were 
ordered  to  keep  in  the  woods,  holding  hands  on  canteens,  to 
prevent  sounds,  and  fall  back,  without  speaking  a  word  above 
a  whisper.  We  retraced  our  weary  steps  about  one  and  a  half 
miles  and  stacked  arms,  with  the  hope  of  getting  breakfast. 

So  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  had  no  appetite  for  several 
days.  I  was  suffering  from  jaundice,  the  whites  of  my  eyes 
had  a  yellow  hue,  and  my  complexion  also  was  affected  the 
same  way.  My  companions  urged  me  to  take  the  hospital 
ambulance,  but  at  a  time  when  a  battle  was  imminent,  I 
felt  that  my  honor  would  be  lost  if  I  did  so.  However,  if 
my  appetite  had  been  good,  I  would  not  have  gotten  my  break- 
fast. If  my  comrade,  Lewis  Lunsford,  is  living,  he  will  recall 
my  giving  him  my  rations  which  I  could  not  eat. 

As  the  order  was  about  to  be  given  to  "break  ranks"  a 
courier  rode  up,  with  a  dispatch  to  General  Mahone,  and,  in 
place  of  breaking  ranks,  we  were  to  retake  arms  and  march 
again  over  ground  we  had  twice  covered  the  same  morning. 
But  this  time  we  were  only  moved  half  the  distance  of  our 
early  adventure.  We  were  formed  in  a  long  line  of  battle  with 
other  brigades  on  our  right  and  left. 

Half  a  mile  in  our  front  could  be  seen  another  long  line  of 
battle,  stretching  over  the  undulating  hills,  then  hid  from  sight 
by  intervening  knolls  and  valleys,  rising  in  sinuous  shape,  far 
away  to  the  right  and  left.  Now  and  then  a  battery  of  artillery 
would  gallop  to  some  prominent  point,  and  a  rapid  duel  of  field 
pieces  made  a  thrilling  prelude  to  the  great  second  battle  of 
Manassas,  that  was  soon  to  be  fought. 

For  five  or  more  hours,  we  laid  in  the  broiling  hot  sun,  in 
this  long  line,  so  weary  that  many  of  us  slept  half  the  time. 

About  3  :oo  o'clock  some  one  exclaimed,  "There  goes  Gen- 
eral Jackson !"  He  was  riding  leisurely  along  our  front.  We 
regarded  him  as  our  guiding  star  to  victory  in  the  approaching 
conflict,  and  his  weather-beaten  uniform  gave  hope  and  en- 
couragement to  our  anxious  minds.    Soon  after,  General  J.  E. 


28  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

B.  Stuart  and  other  distinguished  generals  passed  by;  and  it 
was  rumored  that  General  Lee  had  just  finished  holding  a  con- 
ference with  his  division  commanders,  and  the  battle  would 
soon  be  fought.  General  Stuart  was  riding  a  magnificent  horse, 
with  handsome  trappings,  that  were  captured  from  General 
Pope  the  day  previous. 

While  lying  on  this  line  awaiting  orders,  great  clouds  of 
dust  could  be  seen  rolling  above  the  tree  tops  several  miles 
distant,  marking  plainly  the  movement  of  the  enemy  in  deploy- 
ing their  forces. 

In  less  than  two  hours  after  this  conference,  a  loud  roar 
of  artillery  came  from  our  left,  quickly  followed  by  the  rattle 
of  musketry  and  a  prolonged  yell  gave  a  note  of  determined 
victory.  Shortly  thereafter  the  long  line  of  battle  in  our  front 
moved  off  to  mingle  in  the  deadly  fray.  The  artillery  and 
infantry  on  our  center  line  were  soon  popping  away  in  dead 
earnest;  and  now  came  the  order  for  our  advance. 

We  had  moved  a  short  distance  beyond  where  the  first  line 
of  battle  had  been  resting,  when  the  enemy's  artillery  com- 
menced sending  a  few  enfilading  shells  into  our  ranks. 

General  Mahone  immediately  perceived  the  danger  of  a  shot 
tearing  down  the  parallel  line,  called  his  chief  of  staff  and 
ordered  colonels  of  regiments  to  form  in  echelon,  thereby  leav- 
ing a  gap  for  the  buzzing  shell  to  pass  through. 

Major  Taylor,  chief  of  staff,  of  Norfolk,  galloped  to  the 
head  of  each  regiment,  rising  in  his  stirrups  and  issued  the 
order  in  a  clear  and  penetrating  voice.  I  never  witnessed  a 
more  thrilling  soul  inspiring  scene. 

A  detail  of  three  men  was  ordered  to  take  care  of  such 
belongings  of  the  regiment  as  could  not  be  carried  into  action. 
Captain  Lewis  Marks,  our  company  captain,  knowing  my  phy- 
sical condition,  from  the  attack  of  jaundice,  detailed  me  as  one. 
I  felt  inclined  to  object,  but  remembering  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  a  soldier  to  obey  orders,  I  saw  the  gallant  Twelfth  move  off 
into  the  charge,  and  I  saw  for  the  last  time  many  of  my  dear 
comrades.    Some  who  were  not  so  badly  wounded,  came  limp- 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  29 

ing  in,  among  the  number  "Buck"  Kevan  and  my  dear  com- 
rade, Samuel  Hatcher,  shot  through  the  instep,  and  using  a 
stick  to  hop  along  on  one  foot.  Though  badly  wounded,  he 
wore  a  smile  as  he  said,  "Phil,  I  have  my  furlough  wound,  and 
I  am  going  back  to  Petersburg."  At  the  time  he  did  not  know 
that  his  brother  Virg  was  then  lying  dead  on  the  battlefield. 

The  casualties  of  the  Twelfth  Virginia  were  very  heavy. 
Our  Brigadier-General,  Wm.  Mahone,  was  wounded;  also 
Col.  Weisiger  and  Captain  Wm.  E.  Cameron,  Adjutant  of  the 
12th.  Major  David  May  was  killed;  the  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  was  several  hundred.  When  Mrs.  Mahone  was  told 
that  the  General  had  only  received  a  flesh  wound,  she  replied 
in  a  spirited  manner,  "You  are  deceiving  me,  for  if  a  bullet 
struck  him,  it  must  have  hit  a  bone." 

When  night  came  on  we  were  not  close  enough  to  the  bat- 
tlefield to  be  disturbed  by  the  wounded.  It  was  a  lonely  vigil 
that  Sidney  Jones,  Gus  Durphy  and  I  had  that  memorable 
night. 

Before  going  to  sleep,  I  deemed  it  wise  to  save  a  few  coals 
for  a  fire  next  morning  as  we  had  used  the  only  match  in  our 
party  to  start  our  evening  fire.  In  raking  up  the  ashes  to 
cover  the  coals  some  cartridges  accidently  were  caught  up,  and 
their  explosion  burnt  my  right  thumb  and  singed  my  eye- 
brows. 

We  made  our  breakfast  of  hardtack,  boiled  in  a  tin  cup,  with 
a  small  piece  of  bacon,  a  dish  that  had  become  famous  on  the 
march,  and  known  as  "cush." 

After  turning  over  to  the  wagon  train  the  belongings  that 
were  left  with  us  the  evening  before,  we  started  off  to  overtake 
our  command.  In  doing  so  we  saw  the  horrors  of  the  evening 
previous.  The  ambulance  corps  of  the  enemy  had  been  given 
permission  to  enter  our  lines,  and  care  for  their  dead  and 
wounded.  The  fields  and  roadway  were  strewn  with  them,  and 
many  sickening  sights  were  seen.  In  several  places  the  limbs 
and  heads  had  been  severed  from  the  body  by  the  artillery 
wheels,  or  mashed  into  a  mangled  mass  by  the  hoofs  of  the 
cavalry  trampling  over  them.     At  other  places  we  counted 


30  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

where  more  than  thirty  bullets  had  struck  a  tree  of  not  more 
than  eight  inches  diameter,  and  in  the  height  of  a  man. 

It  was  two  days  before  we  could  overtake  our  command, 
as  the  line  of  battle  before  night  had  been  pushed  several  miles 
from  the  point  of  first  attack,  and  the  regiment  had  one  day 
start  of  us. 

When  we  camped  on  Goose  Creek,  a  few  miles  from  Lees- 
burg,  John  Pritchard  and  I  obtained  permission  to  go  into  town 
to  provide  a  few  articles  for  our  mess,  and,  as  it  was  nearly 
sunset  when  we  left,  it  was  understood  that  our  return  would 
be  next  morning.  After  purchasing  tobacco  and  a  small  quan- 
tity of  sugar  and  coffee,  we  sought  rest  on  the  lawn  of  a  beau- 
tiful mansion,  and  were  soon  in  a  sound  slumber,  from  which 
we  were  awakened  by  the  music  of  several  regimental  bands 
passing  through  the  town  at  the  head  of  their  commands.  We 
little  dreamed  that  ours  was  among  the  number,  but  so  it  was, 
and  we  marched  off  to  overtake  it.  We  forded  the  Potomac  at 
Williams'  crossing  (I  think  that  was  the  name)  about  10 
A.  M.,  and  after  dark  arrived  on  the  banks  of  Monocacy  River, 
and  still  we  had  not  overtaken  our  regiment. 

We  were  afraid  to  venture  in  the  water  not  knowing  its 
depth,  and  the  September  nights  were  growing  cool.  Leaving 
the  road  and  entering  the  tall  timber  along  the  banks,  we  came 
to  a  stop,  where  we  found  many  others  were  halted  in  a  like 
manner. 

At  last  we  found  a  suitable  resting  place.  I  took  the  pre- 
caution to  unbuckle  my  bayonet  belt,  and  pass  it  under  my 
head  for  pillow,  the  bayonet  scabbard  under  my  rubber  cloth. 
We  were  so  exhausted  from  our  long  day's  march  that  our 
sleep  must  have  been  very  sound,  for,  when  I  awakened,  the 
sun  was  up,  and  my  head  flat  on  the  ground.  My  belt  had 
been  unbuckled,  and  the  bundle,  containing  coffee,  sugar  and 
tobacco,  was  stolen  from  under  my  head.  Did  I  grow  angry? 
Well,  if  my  dear  comrade,  John  Pritchard,  is  still  alive,  I  would 
like  for  him  to  answer  this!  Fortunately  for  my  sense  of 
honor,  no  money  had  been  given  me  to  buy  these  articles,  and 
the  loss  was,  therefore,  all  my  own. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  31 

Without  a  mouthful  of  breakfast  we  forded  the  stream;  it 
was  not  deep,  and  we  trudged  along  the  dusty  road  and  during 
the  morning  came  to  another  point  of  the  same  river,  where  the 
railroad  crossed  on  an  iron  bridge,  and  found  it  was  being  de- 
stroyed by  some  artillery  command,  to  prevent  its  use  by  the 
enemy. 

Before  night  we  were  once  more  in  the  ranks  of  our  own 
command,  and  felt  a  great  relief. 

Very  strict  orders  had  been  given  by  General  Lee,  that  no 
property  of  any  kind  should  be  disturbed  in  passing  through 
the  enemy's  country,  and,  as  our  own  wagon  train  was  some 
distance  in  the  rear,  our  rations  were  cut  very  short. 

Apples  and  green  corn  (when  it  could  be  had)  were  our 
principal  diet. 

We  passed  through  Frederick  City  on  the  morning  of  Sep- 
tember 12,  1862,  and  the  Twelfth  Virginia  made  a  handsome 
spectacle,  as  we  marched  through  the  streets,  open  order,  arms 
resting  on  knapsacks.  By  this  maneouvre  four  men  abreast 
extended  across  the  street,  and  caused  our  force  to  look  much 
larger  than  it  really  was. 

Our  next  stopping  point  was  the  little  town  of  Burketts- 
ville,  where  we  rested  over  night,  and  Saturday  marched 
through  Crampton's  Gap,  in  South  Mountain,  and  camped  in 
Pleasant  Valley. 

Sunday,  September  14th,  we  received  orders  to  retrace  our 
march,  recrossing  South  Mountain,  to  defend  the  Gap  against 
Franklin's  Corps,  which  was  aiming  to  relieve  the  siege  of  Har- 
per's Ferry.  I  was  nearly  a  mile  from  camp  hunting  for  milk 
and  bread,  when  I  heard  the  drum  corps  beating  the  "long 
roll"  and  had  to  run  fast  to  be  in  line  when  my  name  was  called. 

The  12th  was  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant  Col.  Field, 
as  Lieutenant  Col.  Fielding  Taylor,  though  ill,  was  on  the  firing 
line  and  received  a  mortal  wound. 

John  Crow,  of  the  Rifles,  saved  Col.  Taylor's  gold-head  cane 
by  sticking  it  in  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  as  he  retreated  up  the 
mountain. 


32  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

All  this  was  learned  after  my  return  from  the  North.  I 
also  learned  that  Leslie  Spence,  Ned  Aikin,  Captain  Patterson 
and  John  Laughton  were  wounded  same  evening. 

General  Thomas  T.  Munford,  now  eighty-six  years  old,  liv- 
ing at  "Oakland, "  near  Union  Town,  Ala.,  on  March  8,  1917, 
wrote  me  the  following: 

"When  I  opened  your  letter,  the  Crampton's  Gap  Fight,  where 
you  gave  your  blood,  came  back  to  me  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
revivifying  the  scenes  that  developed  there  as  General  Frank- 
lin moved  out  to  attack  the  Gap. 

"I  had  orders  to  hold,  with  ten  times  our  numbers  visible. 

"To-day  those  scenes  are  forgotten,  except  by  the  handful 
who  witnessed  them  —  that  campaign  was  was  written  in 
blood  —  as  precious  as  soldiers  could  furnish,  and  General  Lee's 
audacity  as  a  great  soldier  was  never  crowned  more  brilliantly." 

As  we  descended  the  mountain,  we  could  see  in  the  distance 
clouds  of  dust  rising  above  the  trees  on  the  several  roads  lead- 
ing to  this  point.  Such  an  ominous  sight  made  us  feel  that  in  a 
few  hours  a  battle  would  be  fought. 

I  have  never  known  how  the  6th,  16th  and  41st  regiments 
were  placed  along  the  base  of  the  mountain.  I  only  know  that 
the  12th  was  where  the  road  diverged,  right  and  left  at  the 
base.  We  were  deployed  eight  feet  apart,  in  order  to  extnd 
our  line  as  far  as  possible.  We  were  behind  a  rail  fence,  with 
just  enough  distance  from  the  road  to  lie  down  at  full  length, 
and  rest  our  rifles  on  a  low  rail,  where  good  aim  could  be 
taken.  I  suppose  we  were  in  position  nearly  as  hour  before 
the  enemy's  advance  column  appeared  in  our  front.  About  two 
hundred  yards  distant  was  another  rail  fence,  a  freshly  fal- 
lowed field  lying  between  us.  We  had  strict  orders  not  to  fire 
until  the  enemy  was  in  good  rifle  range. 

For  fully  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  after  arriving  at  the  point 
mentioned,  they  hesitated  to  make  a  charge  on  us.  Finally  a 
great  cheering,  as  if  greeting  some  welcome  reinforcements, 
swelled  along  the  line,  and  over  the  fence  they  clambered,  and 
started  for  us  at  double  quick  time.    When  they  had  advanced 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  33 

about  fifty  yards,  a  deadly  rifle  fire  hurled  them  back,  leaving 
a  line  of  killed  and  wounded.  By  the  time  they  reached  the 
point  from  which  they  started,  another  volley  was  poured  into 
them.  From  these  two  opposite  points,  a  desultory  fire  was 
kept  for  some  time.  Then  another  great  cheering  (more  fresh 
troops)  and  over  the  fence  they  came  again. 

I  was  in  the  act  of  firing  my  rifle  when  the  cheering  com- 
menced ;  and,  seeing  an  officer  with  his  hat  lifted  on  the  point  of 
his  sword,  as  he  mounted  the  fence,  I  took  deliberate  aim,  but 
the  smoke  of  my  rifle  prevented  my  seeing  what  effect  it  had. 
I  do  know,  however,  that  they  moved  only  a  few  feet  before 
they  doubled  back,  and  kept  up  their  fire  from  behind  the  fence. 

In  the  meantime,  a  battery  of  artillery  in  our  rear  was  de- 
livering a  plunging  fire  of  shot  and  shell  into  their  ranks.  Their 
force  outnumbered  our  own  so  greatly  that  while  we  were  hold- 
ing them  back  in  our  front,  they  had  lapped  around  our  right 
and  left  for  some  distance ;  when  at  a  given  signal  they  made  a 
desperate  rush  upon  our  line.  Though  we  popped  our  rifles 
as  rapidly  as  possible,  it  seemed  evident  that  we  would  soon  be 
overwhelmed. 

When  they  were  about  twenty  yards  distant  I  was  shot  in 
the  left  arm,  about  three  inches  below  the  elbow,  the  bullet 
passing  between  the  two  bones,  then  through  the  elbow  joint, 
and  lodged  in  the  muscle  of  the  arm.  I  do  not  know  whether 
it  was  the  excitement,  or  what,  but  I  felt  no  more  pain  at  the 
time  than  if  a  brush  had  hit  me ;  but  the  blood  trickling  to  my 
finger  tips,  and  the  utter  uselessness  of  or  inability  to  move  the 
arm,  made  me  realize  that  it  was  broken,  and  before  the  enemy 
reached  the  fence  I  pulled  myself  into  the  road. 

At  this  moment  Cobb's  Georgians  came  to  our  relief,  and 
enabled  all  who  could,  to  escape,  for  they  halted  the  enemy  at 
the  fence  from  which  we  had,  only  a  few  minutes  before,  been 
firing  at  them.  While  lying  in  the  wheel  rut  of  this  road,  with 
the  Yankee  guns  not  more  than  ten  feet  to  my  left,  my  face 
resting  on  my  bloodcovered  hand,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  shocking  sights  seen  after  the  battle  of  Manassas,  for 
should  a  battery  of  artillery  or  a  squadron  of  cavalry  move  I 
would  be  ground  or  trampled  into  an  unrecognizable  mass. 


34  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

For  fully  ten  minutes  the  bullets  were  hissing  near  my  ears, 
and  as  soon  as  the  enemy  crossed  over  this  road  I  held  my 
shattered  arm  in  my  right,  and  took  refuge  in  an  old  cooper 
shop  near  the  roadside,  where  a  number  of  Federal  soldiers 
were  making  good  use  of  several  barrels  of  fresh  cider.  I 
passed  by  them,  and  seated  myself  on  the  back  sill,  feeling 
quite  faint  from  the  loss  of  blood. 

I  was  not  there  more  than  a  minute  when  one  of  the  number 
brought  me  a  tin  cup  of  the  cider,  addressing  me  as  "Johnnie." 
He  seemed  very  much  interested  in  my  condition,  and  insisted 
on  going  with  me  to  have  my  wound  attended  to.  I  was  utterly 
amazed  at  this  mark  of  kindness,  and  I  soon  followed  him  over 
the  field,  where  many  evidences  of  the  effectiveness  of  our  fire 
was  seen. 

About  midway  my  eyes  rested  on  the  finest  canteen  I  had 
ever  seen,  and  I  hardly  thought  it  would  be  violating  the  Tenth 
Commandment  if  I  asked  him  to  appropriate  it  for  my  use, 
and  this  he  did  most  cheerfully. 

I  was  taken  to  five  operating  "field"  hospitals  before  a 
surgeon  could  be  found,  who  could  spare  the  time  from  their 
great  number  of  wounded,  to  attend  to  me.  In  an  apple  or- 
chard, near  a  brick  house,  about  one  mile  in  the  rear  of  the 
battlefield,  a  very  noble  and  kindly  disposed  Federal  surgeon, 
about  sixty  years  old,  with  a  sharp  knife  ripped  my  sleeve  open, 
and  cut  it  off  about  two  inches  below  the  shoulder.  Then  for 
the  first  time  I  knew  the  course  of  the  bullet  heretofore  men- 
tioned. He  wished  me  placed  under  the  influence  of  chloro- 
form, as  it  would  be  exceedingly  painful  to  extract  the  bullet 
so  firmly  embedded  in  the  muscles. 

I  objected  to  this,  and  told  him  I  preferred  to  stand  the  pain. 
An  incision  about  two  inches  long  was  made  through  the  liga- 
ments, and  fastening  the  forceps  on  the  bullet,  they  failed  to 
remove  it,  until  the  fourth  or  fifth  effort.  When  it  yielded  to 
his  strong  arm,  the  blood  flew  in  all  directions.  He  crammed 
a  bunch  of  lint  into  the  opening.  The  next  minute  everything 
turned  pitch  dark  and  I  lost  consciousness  for  several  minutes. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  35 

When  I  recovered,  this  kind  doctor  was  bathing  my  face  in  cool 
water,  and  had  such  a  sympathetic  countenance  that  I  felt  he 
was  a  friend.  He  remarked,  in  a  pleasant  manner,  "Young  man, 
you  stood  the  operation  bravely,  but  you  pinched  my  leg  blue." 
After  placing  the  bullet  in  a  pan  of  water  to  wash  off  the  blood, 
he  handed  it  to  me  with  the  remark,  "You  can  now  see  why 
that  bullet  was  so  difficult  to  remove."  The  point  was  turned 
back  like  a  brim  of  a  "rough  and  ready  hat."  My  arm  was 
neatly  bandaged  and  I  remained  sitting,  with  my  back  resting 
against  a  tree  in  the  apple  orchard.  The  Union  soldier  who 
accompanied  me  from  the  battlefield  had  remained  by  me,  and 
as  it  was  about  sundown  he  brought  me  a  small  bowl  of  corn 
meal  gruel,  which  refreshed  me  very  much. 

A  little  while  later  who  should  come  up  but  one  of  my 
company  comrades,  W.  C.  Smith,  who  had  been  slightly 
wounded  in  the  shoulder.  He  informed  me  that  Thomas  Mor- 
gan and  George  Bernard,  of  the  Petersburg  Rifles,  and  Charlie 
Pritchard,  of  my  company,  were  wounded  and  fellow  prisoners, 
but  I  did  not  see  them  until  next  day. 

I  laid  on  the  upper  porch  floor  of  the  brick  house  that  night, 
on  a  bed  of  loose  straw,  brought  by  this  kind  Federal  soldier, 
who  also  brought  a  canteen  of  fresh  water,  which  proved  a 
great  blessing,  for  my  thirst  was  insatiate,  and  I  could  not 
sleep.  On  the  same  porch  floor  with  me  were  six  or  seven 
wounded  Federal  soldiers,  two  of  whom  died  before  daybreak. 

Next  morning  my  soldier  friend  brought  me  another  bowl  of 
gruel  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 

About  10  o'clock  all  the  wounded  who  were  able  to  walk 
were  marched  to  Burkettsville,  and  a  church  was  converted 
into  a  hospital. 


36  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Opening  Guns  of  Sharpsburg 

After  two  days  and  one  night  in  this  crowded  building, 
conditions  became  unpleasant.  My  comrade,  W.  C.  Smith,* 
and  I  sought  shelter  in  a  wagon  body,  under  a  shed  only  a 
block  from  the  church.  Here  it  was  that  we  heard  the  first 
cannon  in  the  Sharpsburg  battle,  some  miles  away.  I  had  slept 
but  little.  The  artillery  firing  became  quite  rapid,  and  was 
soon  after  followed  by  unmistakable  volleys  of  musketry. 

My  nerves  began  to  tingle,  so  I  called  my  soundly  sleeping 
comrade,  who  was  later,  in  a  reunited  country,  destined  to  wear 
the  uniform  of  Union  Colonel.  We  listened  with  eager  ears 
and  anxious  hearts  to  the  ominous  and  thundering  sounds  that 
rolled  over  the  undulating  hills  on  that  ever  memorable  17th 
of  September,  1862,  when  the  battle  of  Sharpsburg  traced  its 
bloody  drama  on  the  pages  of  American  history. 

During  the  day  I  lost  sight  of  my  friend  and  comrade,  not 
to  meet  him  again  for  many  months.  A  purer  soul  and  more 
thorough  gentleman  never  breathed  than  Colonel  W.  C.  Smith, 
of  whom  General  Charles  King  so  charmingly  writes :  "He 
lived  to  lead  an  adoring  regiment  (First  Tennessee)  into  action 
under  the  old  flag,  and  his  spirit  went  up  in  the  smoke  of 
Springfield  far  across  the  Pacific." 

About  noon  of  the  second  day,  I  was  put  on  the  amputation 
board,  the  bandages  removed,  and  two  doctors  prepared  to 
administer  chloroform,  and  cut  off  my  arm,  but  I  objected 
vehemently,  and  rather  reluctantly,  they  finally  told  me  to  go 
to  my  cot,  and,  later,  they  would  look  after  my  case.  But  I 
never  gave  them  the  chance  to  do  so.  Soon  after  returning  to 
my  cot,  a  gentleman  came,  and  took  a  seat  by  me.  He  seemed 
interested  in  my  behalf,  for  I  had  noticed  his  anxiety  when  the 
doctors  were  discussing  the  amputation  of  my  arm.  He  spoke 
in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  telling  me  that  he  lived  on  the  first 


*  W.  C.  Smith,  after  the  war,  was  a  successful  and  noted  architect, 
located  at  Nashville,  Tenn.  He  later  became  Colonel  of  the  1st  Ten- 
nessee Regiment,  and  lost  his  life  in  the  Philippines. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  37 

corner  below  the  church,  after  crossing  over  the  street,  and 
that  in^the  backyard  was  a  pump  where  many  of  the  soldiers 
obtained  water,  and,  if  I  would,  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or 
two,  pass  into  the  back  gate,  ostensibly  for  water,  and  if  no  one 
was  about  I  must  go  into  the  house,  as  he  wished  to  save  my 
arm,  if  it  could  possibly  be  done.  I  could  only  reply  by  a  silent 
pressure  of  his  hand,  for  my  heart  was  in  my  throat,  and  I 
could  not  give  utterance  to  my  gratitude. 

When  I  ventured  to  follow  his  instructions,  I  found  his 
wife  and  her  mother,  Mrs.  Harrison,  ready  to  greet  me  with  a 
warmth  that  made  me  feel  very  comfortable  and  grateful.  I 
was  in  the  hospitable  home  of  Doctor  John  Garrott,  a  native  of 
Maryland,  but  whose  wife  was  from  Harrisonburg,  Va.,  and 
two  of  her  brothers  were  in  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia. 
I  was  given  a  neat,  large  room,  my  arm  resting  on  a  soft  pillow 
covered  with  a  piece  of  oil  cloth,  as  I  had  to  bathe  my  wound 
every  few  minutes  with  cold  water.  There  were  three  little 
children  in  the  family,  the  oldest  about  nine  years  of  age,  and 
we  soon  became  very  much  attached. 

I  found  that  Mrs.  Garrott's  house  was  the  rendezvous  of  all 
the  Southern-women  sympathizers  in  that  section,  and  often 
eight  or  ten  at  a  time  would  drop  in  to  my  room.  Among  the 
number,  I  recall  Mrs.  Claggett  and  her  little  daughter,  Rose. 
The  doctor  was  a  surgeon  in  the  Confederate  Army. 

Dr.  Garrott  and  all  his  family  were  as  kind  and  considerate 
of  my  welfare  as  if  I  had  been  a  relative ;  and,  in  due  course  of 
time,  my  wound  commenced  to  heal,  and  the  the  desire  to 
return  South  grew  stronger  each  day. 

Before  leaving,  however,  I  met  with  an  act  of  kindness,  on 
the  part  of  Mrs.  Giddings  (I  think  that  was  her  name),  another 
Southern  sympathizer,  which  I  must  mention.  She  had  taken 
to  her  home  in  the  country,  George  Bernard,  of  the  Petersburg 
Rifles,  and  sent  her  carriage  to  Burkettsville  for  me  to  make 
him  a  visit.  Truly,  we  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  "good 
Samaritans."  * 


*  George  Barnard,  after  the  war,  practiced  law  in  Petersburg  suc- 
cessfully and  published  an  interesting  book  under  the  title  of  "War 
Talks  by  Confederate  Veterans."     He  died  in  the  early  spring  of  1912. 


3&  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

(Pardon  a  line  of  digression.)  I  have  been  informed  that 
George  Alfred  Townsend,  who  acquired  quite  a  reputation  as 
a  newspaper  correspondent,  under  a  nom  de  plume  of  "Gath," 
built  a  palatial  residence  on  the  summit  of  "Crampton's  Gap/' 
overlooking  Pleasant  Valley  on  one  side  and  the  battlefield  at 
the  base,  near  the  little  town  of  Burkettsville  on  the  other. 

The  latter  part  of  October  I  bade  farewell  to  my  kind  pro- 
tectors, and  went  to  the  provost  marshall's  office  for  my  parole. 
In  company  with  about  eight  other  Confederates  of  different 
commands,  none  of  whom  I  knew,  we  were  taken  in  a  farm 
wagon,  the  body  of  which  was  filled  with  straw,  to  Frederick 
City.  There  we  were  joined  by  a  number  of  prisoners  from 
other  sections  and  placed  in  box  cars,  the  conditions  of  which 
were  so  filthy  that  we  could  not  sit  down.  Every  one  of  us 
had  been  wounded,  and  had  to  stand,  some  on  crutches,  all  the 
way  to  Baltimore,  where  I  made  two  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
evade  the  guard  in  order  to  reach  friends  to  whom  I  had  letters 
of  introduction.  We  were  taken  to  Fort  McHenry,  and  all  of 
us  were  marched  in  "Indian  file"  to  an  office  where  our  names 
and  the  regiments  to  which  we  belonged  were  registered. 

From  our  entrance  at  the  large  gate,  where  we  were  formed 
in  single  file,  to  the  office  of  registration,  I  observed  a  crowd 
of  ten  or  more  Yankee  soldiers  eyeing  my  uniform  trousers. 
My  sleeveless  coat  was  left,  as  my  only  legacy,  with  kind  Dr. 
Garrott,  and  I  wore  a  citizen  coat,  into  which  I  could  only  put 
my  right  arm,  the  left  being  in  a  sling.  After  our  names  were 
entered,  ranks  were  broken,  and  we  were  at  liberty  to  go  about 
the  grounds.  As  I  walked  off  one  of  the  party  who  had  fol- 
lowed us  from  the  entrance  said,  "Where  did  you  get  that  pair 
of  our  sergeant's  pants?"  This  made  me  very  indignant,  and 
I  replied,  in  a  defiant  manner,  that  the  material  of  which  they 
were  made,  was  manufactured  at  the  Crenshaw  Woolen  Mills, 
Richmond,  Va.,  and  that  before  I  would  wear  a  pair  of  their 
vermin-infested  sergeant's  pants,  I  would  go  naked  the  rest  of 
my  life.  Several  rather  caustic  remarks  passed,  when  one  of 
the  number  cautioned  me  about  being  saucy  and  said,  "If  we 
dared  to  talk  in  that  way  when  prisoners  at  the  South,  we 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  39 

would  be  hung  up  by  the  fingers.  To  which  I  replied  that  I 
had  seen  many  hundreds  of  their  prisoners  at  the  South,  and 
that  those  who  could  speak  plain  enough  for  me  to  understand 
assured  me  "they  were  serving  only  for  the  money  that  was  in 
it,"  while  we  were  fighting  for  our  rights,  guaranteed  under 
the  Federal  Constitution. 

Just  before  sundown  the  sutler's  wagon,  with  fresh  warm 
rolls  and  cool  milk,  drove  into  the  grounds,  and  while  I  desired 
to  be  among  the  first  to  secure  such  a  luxury,  I  was  afraid  my 
arm  might  be  injured  in  the  crowd.  I  therefore  held  back,  until 
the  rush  was  over.  In  the  meantime  the  sutler  asked  if  any 
of  the  newly  arrived  prisoners  were  from  Isle  of  Wight.  As 
there  was  no  response  I  remarked  that  for  several  months  I 
had  been  stationed  at  Smithfield,  in  Isle  of  Wight.  He  said  his 
name  was  Vellines,  and  he  knew  pretty  much  everyone  whose 
name  I  called,  and  this  seemed  to  please  him  very  much.  When 
I  tendered  him  the  money  for  my  two  rolls  ("rusks"  they  called 
them)  and  glass  of  milk,  he  refused  to  accept  it,  and  begged 
that  I  would  come  to  his  wagon  as  long  as  I  remained  at  the 
fort. 

As  I  rested  that  night  in  the  long,  two-story  building,  not 
acquainted  with  a  single  one  of  the  many  prisoners,  a  feeling 
of  deep  thankfulness  came  over  me,  for  the  many  acts  of  kind- 
ness shown  since  I  was  wounded  and  a  prisoner.  In  my  prayers 
my  grateful  heart  whispered  to  the  recording  angel  how  much 
I  had  been  blessed,  and  I  felt  a  reproach  that  the  name  of  the 
Union  soldier,  also  the  name  of  the  doctor  who  was  so  kind  to 
me  the  evening  I  was  wounded  and  for  two  days  after  could 
not  be  remembered,  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  secure  them. 

Next  morning  I  was  sitting  on  a  box  in  the  bracing  October 
sun  reading  when  a  rough  soldier  approached.  Thinking  he 
wished  to  speak  to  me,  I  looked  into  his  tough  face.  He  never 
noticed  me,  but  caught  one  end  of  the  box,  and  nearly  upset 
me  as  he  jerked  it  away.  An  officer  happened  to  see  the  act 
and  commanded  him,  in  a  severe  tone,  to  replace  the  box  in- 
stantly, for  which  I  touched  the  brim,  of  my  cap  in  recognition 
of  the  courtesy. 


40  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

The  second  day  we  boarded  the  steamer  Robert  Y.  Morris, 
via  Fortress  Monroe,  to  be  exchanged  at  Varina,  several  miles 
below  Richmond.  There  was  something  over  one  hundred 
prisoners  on  the  steamer,  but  all  were  total  strangers  to  me. 

I  roamed  around  to  see  where  I  could  lie  down  for  rest. 
Seeing  a  trap  door  open,  and  workmen  about,  I  remarked  that, 
if  there  was  no  objection,  I  would  like  to  rest  on  the  sacks  of 
oats  in  the  hold  below.  I  slept  very  little,  as  my  wound  had 
not  been  dressed  since  leaving  Burkettsville,  and  a  throbbing 
pain  set  in. 

At  Varina  we  left  the  United  States  transport  and  went 
aboard  a  canal  boat,  which  was  towed  to  Richmond  by  a  tug. 

Before  arriving  there,  it  was  announced  that  all  the  return- 
ing prisoners  would  be  taken  to  Chimborazo  Hospital,  and 
quarantined  for  ten  days.  For  the  first  time  on  this  trip  I  felt 
glad  that  all  were  strangers,  for  I  made  up  my  mind  to  escape 
the  quarantine  if  possible.  I  strolled  to  the  bow  of  the  boat, 
and  before  the  line  was  fastened  I  stepped  ashore,  and  moved 
off  as  rapidly  as  possible.  I  heard  several  calls,  "Come  back ! 
Come  back  here !"  But  I  did  not  do  as  Lot's  wife,  and  pushed 
on  to  Main  Street,  where,  fortunately,  at  the  terminus  of  the 
car  line,  stood  a  coach,  with  two  stub-tailed  mules,  ready  to 
start.    I  experienced  a  feeling  of  infinite  relief  when 

"The  bell  rang  out  with  a  jangled  quirk 
And  the  stub-tailed  mules  went  off  with  a  jerk." 

1  soon  reached  the  old  American  Hotel,  where  the  Berry 
clothing  store  now  stands,  on  Main  Street,  and  received  a  warm 
and  affectionate  reception  from  Colonel  Jos.  L.  Carrington  and 
his  partner,  Major  Ben  Ayres. 

As  quickly  as  possible,  I  was  sent  to  Dr.  Dunn,  medical 
director  in  Richmond  for  the  army.  He  carefully  removed  the 
bandages.  My  arm  was  very  much  inflamed,  fingers  nearly 
double  their  normal  size,  and  not  a  muscle  could  be  moved. 
I  observed  an  anxious  expression  on  his  face,  as  he  examined 
the  wound.  After  doing  so,  he  said,  "Phil,  why  is  it  the  sur- 
geons did  not  amputate  this  arm?"     My  reply  was  that  I  had 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  41 

begged  very  hard  for  them  not  to  do  so.  He  shook  his  head 
doubtfully,  and  remarked  that,  in  all  probability,  the  joint 
would  have  to  be  resected,  and  two  inches  of  bone  above  and 
below  the  elbow  taken  out.  It  was  then  too  late  in  the  day, 
but  he  said  he  would  send  me  to  the  hospital  next  morning  for 
a  more  thorough  examination. 

But  next  morning  I  had  placed  twenty-two  miles  between 
us,  for  I  went  to  Petersburg,  where  Colonel  Carrington's  fam- 
ily still  remained  at  the  Bollingbroke  Hotel.  Mr.  Peyton  Car- 
rington,  son  of  the  Colonel,  was  in  charge  and  I  was  received 
with  all  kindness  and  consideration  as  if  I  were  a  son.  Dr. 
Lassiter,  their  own  family  physician,  was  sent  for,  and  applied 
a  large,  warm  flaxseed  poultice  to  the  swollen  joint,  and  sev- 
eral hours  later  opened  the  part  where  the  ball  entered,  when 
at  least  a  quart  of  pus  discharged,  which  gave  me  great  relief 
from  the  severe  throbbing  pain. 

I  cannot  resist  mentioning  the  kind  and  sisterly  affection 
shown  me  by  the  Colonel's  eldest  daughter,  Miss  Ella,  who 
later  married  General  I.  M.  St.  John,  of  the  Confederate  Army. 
Florence  Nightingale  was  never  any  kinder  or  nobler  than  this 
dear  woman,  and  through  all  my  life  a  grateful  heart  has  kept 
her  in  pleasant  remembrance. 

The  weeks  wore  wearily  along;  my  wound  continued  to 
suppurate,  and  my  general  health  to  decline.  Therefore,  in 
the  opening  of  spring  I  left  Petersburg  and  my  good  friends 
for  the  home  of  my  brother,  Dr.  Samuel  P.  Brown,  "The  Oaks," 
near  Cartersville,  Cumberland  County. 

Here,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  a  short  diversion  from  my 
story,  to  mention  that  at  the  early  age  of  six  years  I  lost  my 
mother,  and  before  I  was  ten  years  old  my  father  died,  leaving 
two  children,  a  sister  and  a  brother  younger  than  myself.  My 
father  and  mother  lie  in  St.  John's  Churchyard,  Columbia,  and 
my  grandfather  and  grandmother,  both  of  English  birth,  lie 
in  St.  John's  Churchyard,  in  Richmond,  Va. 

On  arriving  at  my  brother's,  he  made  a  very  careful  exami- 
nation of  my  wound  and  said  that  some  foreign  substance  must 


42  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

be  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  After  carefully  probing  the  wound, 
he  thought  the  obstruction  was  touched.  Inserting  his  forceps, 
he  gently  pulled  from  the  wound  a  clot  of  my  clothing  and  a 
small  piece  of  bone,  the  clothing  having  been  carried  in  by  the 
hot  bullet  when  entering  my  arm. 

My  little  niece,  Edmonia,  was  standing  by  when  the  ossified 
lump  dropped  from  the  wound,  accompanied  by  a  copious  flow 
of  blood.    And  such  a  yell  of  fright  and  alarm  as  she  gave ! 

In  a  week's  time  my  arm  and  fingers  were  reduced  from 
their  swollen  appearance  to  a  nearly  normal  condition,  and 
commenced  to  show  a  healthy  sign  of  healing.  In  about  two 
months  I  could  bear  letting  my  arm  out  of  the  sling  for  an 
hour  or  two  at  a  time. 

I  enjoyed  visiting  around  the  country  and,  though  not  able 
to  return  to  active  field  service,  I  was  summoned  to  appear 
before  the  examining  board  at  Camp  Lee,  where  I  was  given 
an  honorable  discharge  from  the  Confederate  service,  Colonel 
Carrington  at  once  gave  me  a  clerkship  at  the  hotel  (Ameri- 
can) heretofore  mentioned,  and  while  my  service  in  the  Army 
of  Northern  Virginia  had  terminated,  I  was  destined  to  have 
some  thrilling  experiences  before  the  close  of  the  war.  As  they 
relate  to  a  period  between  the  autumn  of  1863  and  April,  1865, 
I  may  be  pardoned  for  introducing  them  here. 

Several  months  after  obtaining  my  discharge,  in  passing 
down  Main  Street,  at  the  corner  of  Twelfth,  I  was  inter- 
cepted by  the  provost-guard,  who  demanded  my  papers  to 
show  why  I  was  not  in  the  army.  With  a  smile,  and  a  bow  of 
deference  to  their  authority,  I  proudly  drew  my  discharge, 
expecting  to  be  promptly  passed  on,  but,  to  my  utter  amaze- 
ment and  discomfort,  the  guard  said,  "We  must  take  you  to 
Capt.  John  A.  Coke's  office,  who  will  examine^  these  papers." 
I  protested,  and  asked  if  they  could  not  read  that  it  was  an 
honorable  discharge  for  wounds  received  in  battle? 

I  felt  humiliated  to  be  standing  on  a  main  thoroughfare 
between  two  soldiers,  who  had  probably  never  been  on  the 
firing  line,  and  I  said,  "Very  well,  I  know  Captain  Coke,  and 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  43 

will  report  there  at  once."  But  the  guard  said,  "One  of  us 
must  accompany  you." 

This  was  more  than  I  could  stand,  to  be  marched  along 
Main  Street  to  Captain  Coke's  office  on  Governor  Street.  In- 
dignantly I  said,  "  You  can  follow  ten  steps  behind,  and  if  I 
attempt  to  escape  shoot  me  down."  He  saw  from  my  deter- 
mined look  that  every  word  was  meant. 

Captain  Coke  recognized  me  on  my  own  responsibility  to 
appear  before  the  medical  examining  board  at  Camp  Lee  by 
3  o'clock  that  afternoon.  When  I  reported  the  three  doctors 
examined  my  wounded  arm,  and  stated  that  the  anchylose  of 
the  elbow  joint  would  disqualify  me  from  field  duty,  but  I  must 
be  assigned  to  department  work.  It  fell  to  my  lot  to  be  witV 
Captain  Thomas  Tabb,  who  permitted  me  to  obtain  a  substi- 
tute in  the  person  of  a  man  over  sixty  years,  who  was  exempt 
from  military  service,  and  I  returned  to  the  American  Hotel 
for  duty. 

I  must  ask  pardon  for  an  unintentional  omission.  I  met  an 
old  comrade*  a  few  days  ago  who  said,  "Well,  Phil,  I  have 
greatly  enjoyed  your  memories  in  the  Fincastle  Herald,  but  you 
forgot  to  mention  the  artillery  duel  that  occurred  shortly  before 
the  Malvern  Hill  battle.  I  have  occasion  to  remember  it,  be- 
cause of  an  incident  that  occurred  while  the  exploding  shells 
were  knocking  off  the  limbs  of  trees  and  throwing  dirt  over 
us  as  we  laid  flat  on  the  ground." 

"I  observed  my  companion,  John  Crow,  was  chewing  vig- 
orously and  seemed  quite  calm.  I  said  to  him,  'Jonn>  £1VQ  me 
a  piece  of  your  tobacco  (I  had  never  had  a  piece  in  my  mouth 
before)  ;  it  will  calm  my  nerves.'  About  the  time  it  com- 
menced its  bitter  taste,  a  shell  exploded  a  few  feet  away  and 
gave  me  such  a  shock  that  I  swallowed  the  quid,  ambier  and 
all.  Then  you  can  guess  what  happened.  I  was  the  sickest 
poor  mortal  on  earth." 


*  This  comrade  was  Major  Bob  Henry,  of  the   Rifles;   after  the 
war  he  became  an  eminent  lawyer  at  Tazewell. 


44  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "and  I  am  unable  to -account  for  the  omis- 
sion." 

I  also  remember  an  incident  connected  with  the  artillery 
duel.  We  were  lying  a  short  distance  to  the  right  of  our  bat- 
tery, when  Col.  Julian  DeLagnel,  who  was  Chief  of  Mahone's 
Artillery,  rode  in  front  of  Twelfth  Virginia,  Colonel  Weisiger 
arose  and  they  conversed  in  an  audible  tone  of  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  duel. 

Colonel  DeLagnel  remarked  that  a  few  minutes  ago  he 
recognized  an  old  army  acquaintance,  Phil  Kearney,  as  he  leis- 
urely rode  about  the  Federal  guns  that  were  firing  at  us. 
Through  his  glasses  he  plainly  recognized  his  features,  and 
the  empty  sleeve  pinned  to  his  breast. 

Colonel  DeLagnel  was  the  calmest  person  I  ever  saw  while 
the  shells  were  popping  all  around  us.  After  half  an  hour  gun 
music,  the  Federal  battery  marched  off  and  we  resumed  our 
approach  to  Malvern  Hill. 

It  is  with  considerable  reluctance  that  I  mention  the  follow- 
ing exciting  incidents,  yet  they  form  a  part  of  the  period  em- 
bracing these  reminiscences.  Some  quibbling  cynic  may  say, 
"If  the  writer  could  so  successfully  defend  himself,  he  should 
have  been  with  the  army."  In  reply,  let  me  say  it  was  never 
on  my  own  initiative  that  these  troubles  occured,  and  I  would 
have  been  devoid  of  manhood  had  I  not  faced  them.  My  re- 
luctance to  inflict  a  wrong,  or  to  impose  unjustly  upon  my 
fellowman,  is  in  direct  ratio  with  my  determination  never  to 
tamely  submit  to  the  same,  for  my  resentful  nature  is  set  on  a 
hair  trigger  formation,  whenever  my  honor  is  assailed,  but  I 
am  as  quick  to  forgive  as  to  resent. 

My  first  unpleasant  affair  occured  shortly  after  taking  the 
position  heretofore  mentioned.  A  guest  made  a  request  that 
required  an  examination  of  the  hotel  register.  At  the-  time,  a 
flashy,  black-mustached  man,  with  a  dazzling  diamond  pin 
scintillating  from  his  scarf,  stood  with  both  hands  holding  fast 
to  the  sides  of  the  register,  on  a  revolving  stand. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  45 

I  remarked  to  him  that  I  wished  to  examine  the  register  in 
order  to  answer  an  inquiry.  In  place  of  complying  with  my 
request,  he  gripped  it  tightly,  and  in  an  impudent  tone  said, 
"You  can  wait  until  I  am  through  with  it."  I  resented  this 
speech,  by  twisting  the  register  from  him,  and  answering  the 
query  of  the  guest.  This  infuriated  the  burly,  black-mustached 
ruffian,  and  he  fired  some  of  his  billingsgate  language  at  me. 

I  reached  under  the  counter  for  a  police  club,  that  was  kept 
handy  for  sending  to  the  front,  and  striking  three  times  when 
a  policeman  was  wanted.  He  observed  my  action,  and  re- 
marked, "If  you  attempt  to  strike  me  I  will  go  behind  the 
counter,  and  wring  your  head  off."  He  certainly  looked  large 
enough,  and,  so  far  as  physical  strength  was  concerned,  could 
possibly  have  carried  out  his  threat. 

He  continued  the  examination,  muttering  a  volume  of  blas- 
phemy. Apparently  I  was  not  paying  any  attention  to  his 
remarks,  but  I  held  the  club  with  a  firm  grip,  and  while  he  was 
giving  vent  to  foul  language,  I  landed  a  blow  that  cut  a  gash 
over  his  eye.  He  seized  the  club  and  twisted  it  from  me.  I 
had  previously  opened  the  cash  drawer,  in  which  was  kept  a 
Colt  revolver,  and  the  instant  I  released  the  club  I  warned 
him  if  he  made  any  attempt  to  approach  me  I  would  shoot  him. 

The  instant  I  pulled  the  revolver  on  him  there  was  a  quick 
scamper  of  the  crowd,  but  he  stood  still,  until  Major  Ayres 
took  the  club  from  him.  He  then  shook  his  finger  at  me,  and 
remarked,  "111  soon  have  you  in  'Castle  Thunder';  for  I  am 
one  of  General  Winder's  detectives."  Major  Ayres,  hearing 
the  threat,  thought  it  prudent  to  consult  the  Mayor,  Joseph 
Mayo.  In  an  hour  or  two  the  ruffian  came  in  with  three  others, 
and  ordered  me  to  put  on  my  hat,  that  I  was  under  arrest  and 
would  be  carried  to  "Castle  Thunder."  One  of  the  number 
held  a  large  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  remarked,  "If  you  had 
hit  me  over  the  head  with  that  club,  I  would  have  emptied  all 
the  lead  in  this  gun  into  you!"  I  paid  no  attention  to  his 
remarks,  but  told  the  man  who  said  I  must  go  with  them  that 
I  would  not  move  an  inch,  and  if  they  carried  me  there  it  would 
be  by  force  alone. 


46  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

At  this  critical  moment,  who  should  make  his  appearance 
but  his  honor,  the  Mayor,  who,  told  these  four  men  that  he 
was  the  Mayor  of  the  city,  and  none  of  General  Winder's  men 
should  touch  me,  that  I  had  been  a  soldier  and  honorably  dis- 
charged from  the  army.  He  also  said,  "I  have  learned  from 
my  friend,  Major  Ayres,  all  the  particulars  of  the  affair,  and 
I  commend  this  young  man  for  his  courage,  and,  if  necessary, 
summon  a  force  to  protect  him."  Seeing  they  were  blocked  in 
their  scheme  they  walked  out  of  the  office  and  no  further  at- 
tempt was  made  to  molest  me. 

My  next  experience  occurred  several  months  later,  when  a 
boy  from  the  barber  shop  ran  into  the  office,  very  much  ex- 
cited, and  said,  "Mr.  Brown,  come  down  to  the  bar  quick!  A 
man  is  about  to  kill  Uncle  Bob !"  Bob  Strachan  was  a  respect- 
able colored  man  whom  Colonel  Carrington  had  brought  from 
Petersburg  to  attend  the  bar. 

Before  going  I  placed  in  my  right  trouser  pocket  a  small 
vest  pocket  "Derringer"  pistol,  and  kept  my  hand  on  it.  When 
I  entered  Bob  was  standing  with  hands  down,  and  a  big,  in- 
toxicated soldier,  with  a  huge  knife  fully  eight  inches  long  and 
two  inches  wide,  wiping  the  flat  side  across  Bob's  throat,  and 
abusing  him  unmercifully,  while  three  of  this  ruffian's  friends 
were  standing  by  egging  him  on.  With  my  right  hand  in  my 
pocket,  on  the  "Derringer,"  I  walked  up  and  touched  the  man 
with  my  left  and  asked  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  He 
wheeled  around,  in  a  defiant  manner,  with  uplifted  knife,  and 

asked  if  I  was  the  protector  of  this  yellow  ;  if  so,  he 

would  treat  me  as  he  would  this .    I  distinctly  saw  the 

evil  in  his  eye,  and  determined  not  to  let  my  nerve  quiver.  I 
told  him  that  it  was  only  in  the  interest  of  peace  that  I  came ; 
but  this  did  not  satisfy  him,  and  he  ordered  me  to  clear  out  at 
once.  He  appeared  so  fierce  that  I  thought  he  would  plunge  his 
knife  into  me.  With  my  thumb,  I  gently  raised  the  hammer  of 
the  "Derringer,"  to  shoot  through  my  trouser  pocket.  He 
dared  me  to  draw  a  pistol,  saying  he  would  cut  my  throat  if 
I  did  so. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  47 

When  the  barber  shop  boy  first  came  to  me  in  alarm,  I  in- 
structed him  to  go  in  search  of  a  policeman,  and  hurry  him  to 
the  rescue,  and,  fortunately  for  all  concerned,  one  appeared  at 
the  critical  moment  referred  to  above,  and  arrested  the 
offender;  thereby  preventing  a  tragedy  in  which,  no  doubt,  my 
life  would  have  been  lost. 

Not  many  weeks  after  this  adventure  I  had  another  ex- 
perience. This  time  it  was  with  a  foreigner  who  claimed  to  be 
an  instructor  of  cavalry,  in  the  broadsword  exercise.  He  was 
very  much  intoxicated,  and  wished  to  buy  a  meal  ticket.  It 
was  positively  against  our  rules  to  ever  let  an  intoxicated  man 
enter  the  dining-room,  and  my  refusal  to  sell  him  a  ticket  made 
him  very  angry.  He  finally  whipped  out  a  large  revolver,  and 
demanded  a  ticket,  or  he  would  shoot  me. 

As  he  did  this  who  should  come  up  but  Mr.  H.  Rives  Pol- 
lard, who  was  a  meal  boarder,  and  seizing  the  man  by  the  arm 
threatened  his  arrest.  Fortunately,  he  made  a  hasty  exit,  and 
I  had  to  thank  Mr.  Pollard  for  his  timely  interference.  This  is 
the  same  Mr.  Pollard  who  met  such  a  tragic  death  when  enter- 
ing his  editorial  rooms  soon  after  the  close  of  the  war. 

Times  were  growing  worse,  and  prices  of  provisions  rising 
so  rapidly  that  it  was  difficult' to  maintain  a  regular  schedule  of 
rates.  In  the  meantime,  Colonel  Carrington  and  Major  Ayres 
sold  their  unexpired  lease  and  the  furniture  of  the  "American" 
to  Wright  &  Ford. 

I  was  retained  as  chief  clerk,  though  I  was  growing  uneasy 
regarding  the  safety  of  my  life ;  for  the  city  became  crowded 
whenever  a  spell  of  rainy  or  snowy  weather  set  in,  by  soldiers 
who  would  run  the  blockade,  as  it  was  termed,  i.  e.,  leave  camp 
without  a  furlough.  It  became  so  general  that  a  provost-guard 
had  to  be  established  on  Main  Street  to  make  arrests.  But  the 
soldiers  soon  learned  how  to  flank  the  guard,  and  continued 
their  visits  to  the  city. 

My  next  encounter  was  with  an  intoxicated  cavalryman, 
who  wished  to  purchase  a  meal  ticket,  and  became  infuriated  at 
my  refusal,  threatening  dire  vengeance  upon  me,  and  finally 


48  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

drawing  his  knife,  attempting  to  come  over  the  counter.  A 
well-directed  blow  prevented  him;  he  then  threw  the  open 
knife  with  force  enough  to  have  sent  it  through  me,  but,  for- 
tunately, the  handle  struck  my  side,  and  it  fell  harmlessly  to  the 
floor.  He  then  made  a  wild  rush  for  the  side  door,  to  close 
upon  me,  but  it  was  shut  and  bolted  in  time  to  prevent  his 
doing  so.  Then  he  commenced  a  vigorous  kicking  to  break 
through. 

I  well  knew  if  he  ever  closed  in  upon  me,  in  his  infuriated 
condition,  my  life  would  be  taken.  I  had  already  sent  an  office 
boy  for  the  police,  but  none  had  arrived,  and  it  began  to  look 
as  if  the  door  would  give  way.  I  jumped  over  the  countermand, 
while  he  was  planting  his  heavy  boot  heels  against  the  door, 
I  struck  him  with  all  my  strength,  a  blow  with  my  club  on 
the  back  of  his  head.  He  wheeled  upon  me,  and  I  had  to  run 
for  my  life  to  the  street. 

He  gathered  up  an  iron  cuspidore  as  he  followed  me  through 
the  long  hall  leading  from  the  office  to  the  street.  As  I  passed 
through  the  folding,  glass-paneled  door  near  the  street  entrance 
I  ran  my  club  through  the  two  pull-handles  to  hold  him  at  bay. 
With  a  crash,  the  cuspidore  shattered  the  glass,  but  did  not 
injure  me.  We  were  now  face  to  face  through  the  opening 
made.  Again  I  used  my  club,  and  with  better  effect  than  the 
first  time,  for  he  fell  to  the  floor  from  the  blow  across  the 
face.  Taking  advantage  of  the  situation,  I  thrust  my  club  in 
the  back  of  his  collar  and  gave  it  a  twist  that  rendered 
him  powerless.  At  this  critical  moment,  three  cavalrymen  of 
his  own  command  came  up;  and  I  would  have  been  handled 
very  roughly  by  them,  but  for  the  fact  that  one  of  the  number 
pr6*ved  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,  who  pacified  the  others,  and 
they  carried  their  intoxicated  friend  away. 

I  commenced  to  have  forebodings  that  my  life  would 
end  in  some  tragic  affair,  and  notified  my  employers  that  I 
wished  to  quit  my  position.  I  was  urged  not  to  do  so;  my 
salary  was  raised  to  quite  a  handsome  figure.  Moreover,  I  had 
the  opportunity  to  purchase  stationery  and  other  office  sup- 
plies, that  were  brought  through  the  lines  in  wagons,  and  before 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  49 

they  arrived,  they  were  sold  at  a  fair  margin  of  profit.  In  thus 
financing  I  was  enabled  to  add  considerably  to  my  salary  ac- 
count. 

As  well  as  I  can  remember,  it  was  in  the  spring  of  1864  that 
a  day  of  intense  excitement  occurred,  when  several  hundred 
women  and  children,  whose  ages  ranged  from  eight  to  fourteen 
years,  came  down  Main  Street  from  a  western  suburb  then 
known  as  Sidney.  The  women  were  bareheaded  and  sleeves 
rolled  above  their  elbows ;  some  singing,  others  screaming  and 
the  boys  yelling  like  wild  Comanches. 

Pandemonium  seemed  to  have  suddenly  seized  upon  Main 
Street;  with  their  clubs  smashing  windows  and  doors  and  re- 
moving all  they  could  bear  in  their  arms.  They  were  finally 
halted  at  Fourteenth  Street,  where  a  line  of  military  crossed 
from  curbstone  to  curbstone. 

Behind  this  line  mounted  on  horseback  were  Governor 
Letcher  and  his  aid,  Major  S.  Bassett  French. 

The  military  commander  ordered  a  halt,  and  in  a  loud  and 
distinct  voice  Major  French  read  the  Riot  Act,  and  gave  the 
crowd  five  minutes  to  disperse.  They  quickly  fled  in  wild  dis- 
order back  to  their  homes. 

In  the  12th  of  May,  1864,  great  alarm  was  felt  for  the 
safety  of  Richmond,  as  Sheridan,  with  a  large  force  of  cavalry, 
was  reported  in  the  vicinity  of  Yellow  Tavern,  and  approaching 
the  city  via  the  Brooke  Road.  All  who  were  able  to  use  arms 
were  ordered  to  the  outer  breastworks.  In  company  with  Mr. 
George  Gilliam  (a  tobacconist))  and  Mr.  Ford,  of  the  American 
Hotel,  we  drove  to  the  other  side  of  Emmanuel  Church  and 
halted  near  Mr.  Stewart's  palatial  home ;  the  gentlemen  named 
each  had  a  double  barrel  gun,  while  I  carried  a  Belgium  rifle, 
with  a  good  long  sight  range.  I,  therefore,  left  the  two  gentle- 
men and  ventured  about  half  a  mile  to  the  front;  the  firing 
could  be  distinctly  heard. 

A  squad  of  cavalry  coming  in  brought  the  sad  news  of  Gen. 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart's  death,  but  said  the  Yankees  would  not  get  to 
Richmond,  so  we  returned  to  the  city.  President  Davis  and 
about  all  of  his  cabinet  and  many  members  of  Congress  were 


50  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

out  on  the  Brooke  Road  during  the  excitement,  and  great  relief 
was  felt  when  it  was  known  that  the  enemy  had  been  repulsed. 

A  few  months  later  another  startling  rumor  reached  Rich- 
mond that  Butler  with  a  large  force  was  making  an  effort  to 
capture  and  destroy  the  railroad  between  Petersburg  and  Rich- 
mond. An  order  was  issued  for  every  person  able  to  bear 
arms  to  report  at  Drury's  Bluff  on  James  River. 

In  company  with  many  others  I  went  down  to  the  Bluff  on 
a  steamer,  and  carried  my  Belgium  rifle.  It  was  about  4 
o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  our  destination,  and  only  a  small 
force  was  at  the  Bluff.  About  a  mile  and  a  half  distant  a  fierce 
attack  was  being  made  on  Fort  Stephens  on  the  south  bank 
of  Falling  Creek. 

There  were  no  intervening  forests  or  other  obstructions  to 
prevent  a  view  of  the  gallant  defense  made  by  our  troops.  As 
we  were  simply  volunteers  without  a  leader  no  effort  was  made 
to  lead  us  into  the  fight,  but  when  Major  Smith,  who  was  in 
command  at  the  Bluff,  wished  to  send  a  dispatch  to  General 
Hagood,  who  commanded  at  Fort  Stephens,  I  asked  the  honor 
of  bearing  it,  little  dreaming  of  the  perilous  risk  I  was  to  take. 
When  about  eight  hundred  yards  of  the  Fort,  I  was  in  the 
range  of  the  enemy's  sharpshooters,  and  minie  balls  snipped 
uncomfortably  close.  I  promptly  feigned  being  shot,  and  laid 
prostrate  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  in  a  stooping  posture  made 
the  best  time  I  could  and  soon  reached  Falling  Creek;  here  a 
dilemma  confronted  me,  the  stream  was  not  wide,  but  its  swift 
current  gave  evidence  of  depth ;  after  searching  a  short  distance 
a  path  was  found  that  led  me  to  a  log  that  enabled  me  to  cross 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  inside  the  Fort,  and  delivered  the 
dispatch  to  General  Hagood. 

The  battle  was  still  raging  and  the  litter  bearers  were  busy 
carrying  the  wounded  to  the  rear,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  shot 
above  the  shoulders,  as  they  were  firing  behind  breastworks.  As 
I  was  in  citizens'  dress  the  soldiers  looked  rather  askance  at  me, 
and  my  desire  to  fire  the  Belgium  rifle  over  the  breastworks  was 
minimized  by  the  fear  of  getting  a  bullet  in  my  head;  more- 
over, it  was  nearly  sundown  and  a  good  excuse  to  return  to 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  51 

the  Bluff.  The  fear  of  being  a  target  for  the  sharpshooters  pre- 
vented my  returning  the  way  I  came.  Having  often  driven 
from  Petersburg  to  Richmond,  I  knew  the  turnpike  could  not 
be  very  far  distant  so  I  started  in  search  of  it.  On  reaching 
the  bridge  that  spans  the  little  stream,  the  sentinels  halted  me. 
I  informed  them  of  my  taking  a  dispatch  from  the  commander 
at  the  Bluff  to  General  Hagood,  and  I  disliked  to  return  as  I 
came,  on  account  of  being  in  range  of  the  enemy's  sharpshooters. 
They  paid  little  attention  to  what  was  said  and  refused  posi- 
tively to  let  me  pass.  I  remarked  that  I  would  get  General 
Hagood  to  give  me  a  pass,  but  they  said  that  General  Beaure- 
gard was  the  only  name  that  could  pass  me  over  this  bridge, 
and  his  headquarters  were  near  Petersburg.  I  was  in  quite  a 
dilemma,  as  dark  would  overtake  me  in  less  than  an  hour. 

I  laid  my  rifle  on  the  ground,  took  off  my  coat  and  rolled 
up  the  sleeve  of  my  left  arm  and  showed  them  the  crooked 
elbow  joint,  with  a  bullet  scar  below  and  above.  "Now,"  I 
said,  "don't  you  think  that  ought  to  pass  me  as  well  as  General 
Beauregard's  name  ?"  Their  demeanor  to  me  changed  at  once, 
and  with  a  look  of  sympathy  they  said,  "Yes,  you  can  go  on 
that  pass."  It  was  some  time  after  dark  when' I  reached  the 
Bluff,  and  it  was  a  great  relief  to  know  that  Butler  was  ham- 
mered by  the  guns  of  Fort  Stephens  and  all  along  the  line  so 
successfully  that  he  was  forced  to  retreat. 

The  next  incident  worthy  of  narrating  in  these  reminis- 
cences occurred  about  dark  in  the  evening  of  a  day  that  had 
been  appointed  by  President  Jefferson  Davis  for  prayers  and 
thanksgiving  to  the  Almighty  for  some  victory  obtained  by 
our  army.  I  was  returning  from  a  walk,  and  just  in  front  of  the 
old  Farmer  Bank,  two  doors  above  the  hotel,  I  was  approached 
by  a  lady  leading  a  litle  boy  about  six  years  old.  "Stranger," 
she  said,  "will  you  protect  me  from  an  intoxicated  man,  who 
has  been  rude  to  me?"  "Certainly  I  will,"  was  my  prompt  re- 
ply, and  retraced  my  walk  up  Main  Street.  Before  reaching 
the  first  corner  I  could  hear  the  reeling,  irregular  step  of  the 
man  behind  me.  When  passing  me,  at  a  lurching  gait,  he 
swung  his  left  arm  around  a  lamp-post,  and  leaned  his  head 


52  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

near  my  face.  I  paid  no  attention  to  him.  But  on  reaching  the 
corner  of  Ninth  Street  he  ran  against  the  lady,  pushing  her 
forward.  As  he  did  so  I  turned  on  him,  and  landed  a  blow  with 
my  fist,  full  in  the  face,  sending  him  sprawling  to  the  pavement. 
He  was  soon  on  his  feet  and  came  at  me  with  frantic  gestures 
of  his  arms,  but  his  intoxicated  condition  prevented  the  keep- 
ing of  his  equilibrium  and  I  easily  sent  him  again  reeling  to 
the  pavement,  where  he  preferred  to  remain,  uttering  foul  and 
loud  oaths.  A  crowd  commenced  to  assemble.  I  rejoined  the 
lady  and  her  little  boy,  and  after  going  a  block  above  the 
"Spottswood  Hotel,"  she  remarked,  "I  am  not  very  far  from 
home  now,  and  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  the  protection, 
but  please  give  me  your  address,  so  my  husband  can  thank  you 
when  he  returns  from  the  army."  Poor  man!  He  was  prob- 
ably killed,  and  to  this  day  I  do  not  know  who  the  lady  was. 
Next  morning  Otto  Hahn,  who  boarded  at  the  "American," 
called  my  attention  to  an  article  in  the  Daily  Dispatch,  headed 
"A  Scene  on  Main  Street,"  giving  an  account  of  the  affair.v  If 
the  old  files  have  been  cared  for  it  can  be  read. 

With  one  more  adventure  this  paper  will  soon  close.  It 
had  been  a  cold  rainy  day;  just  the  kind  for  running  the  block- 
ade, and  the  kind  that  always  filled  me  with  uneasiness  for  my 
safety.  Before  the  door  opened  for  dinner  an  officer,  perfectly 
sober,  bought  three  tickets.  I  did  not  see  his  two  other  com- 
rades, but  presumed  they  were  all  right. 

After  the  doors  had  been  open  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  one 
of  the  men  came  out  and  asked  to  have  his  money  refunded, 
as  he  did  not  feel  the  desire  to  eat.  I  handed  him  the  change, 
and,  to  my  surprise,  he  returned  in  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes, 
and  demanded  money  for  his  ticket.  I  told  him  that  he  had 
already  received  the  money,  and  I  had  taken  in  his  ticket.  He 
was  very  much  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  and  vehemently 
denied  that  I  had  returned  him  the  money,  finally  using  lan- 
guage that  angered  me  to  such  an  extent  that  I  was  forced  to 
strike  him  a  severe  blow  with  my  club,  which  brought  a  flow 
of  blood. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  53 

He  ran  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and,  naturally,  I  supposed  a 
pistol  or  a  knife  would  soon  put  an  end  to  me,  but  he  put  a 
whistle  to  his  mouth,  and  gave  a  shrill  blast,  then  loudly  called, 
"Battle's  Brigade,  rally  here!"  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
write  it,  five  or  six  of  his  men  were  in  front  of  the  office  counter, 
some  with  knives  and  others  with'  pistols,  thirsting  for  revenge. 

When  the  soldier  mentioned  "Battle's  Brigade,"  I  in- 
stantly knew  that  the  3rd  Alabama  belonged  to  it,  and  as  this 
regiment  and  the  12th  Virginia  had  been  stationed  near  each 
other,  at  the  entrenched  camp  below  Norfolk,  and  many  warm 
attachments  formed,  in  1861.  Seeing  that  they  were  bent  on 
hurting  me,  "I  said,  "Men  of  Battle's  Brigade,  if  any  of  you 
belong  to  the  3rd  Alabama,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  disturb  me, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  belong  to  the  12th  Virginia,  am  disquali- 
fied for  military  service  by  reason  of  a  wound  received  in  the 
campaign  into  Maryland  in  1862."  These  few  words  acted  like 
magic,  and  one  of  the  number  beckoned  me  to  the  side  door, 
where  regrets  were  expressed  over  the  occurrence,  and  they 
agreed  to  take  their  companion  away. 

The  day  following  I  gave  written  notice  to  Wright  and 
Ford  that  I  would  give  them  until  April  1st  to  put  some  one 
in  my  place.  A  short  while  before  the  time  expired  Mr.  Wright 
offered  to  sell  his  half  interest  in  the  furniture  and  unexpired 
lease  of  the  "American"  for  $100,000.  After  carefully  consider- 
ing the  matter,  I  agreed  to  accept  his  offer,  paying  him  one- 
half  cash  and  giving  him  my  note  at  sixty  days  for  the  other 

Times  were  looking  very  gloomy  for  our  cause,  as  the  North 
had  unlimited  resources,  and  our  army  had  been  recruited  to  its 
utmost  extent.  On  Sunday,  2nd  of  April,  1865,  I  was  in  St. 
Paul's  Church,  seated  in  the  left  gallery,  commanding  a  full 
view  of  the  congregation.  The  morning  service  was  over,  and 
Doctor  Minnegerode,  as  well  as  I  remember,  had  given  out 
his  text,  when  the  sexton,  Mr.  Irvin,  carried  a  telegram  to 
President  Davis,  and  another  to  a  member  of  his  cabinet.  They 
quietly  left  the  church,  but  the  congregation  became  nervous 
and  restless,  while  a  buzz  of  excitement  pervaded  the  sanc- 
tuary, and  there  was  every  indication  of  a  stampede.     Then 


54  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Doctor  Minnegerode  asked  the  congregation  to  be  quiet,  and 
he  would  read  a  telegram  that  had  been  sent  Mr.  Davis,  and 
dismiss  them  with  a  benediction.  The  telegram  read:  "Our 
line  has  been  broken  south  of  Petersburg,  and  the  evacuation 
of  Richmond  will  be  necessary."  To  this  was  added  a  request 
for  all  able-bodied  men  to  assemble  in  the  Capitol  Square  by 
2  :oo  o'clock.  In  sad  and  solemn  movement  the  congregation 
dispersed,  with  heavy  and  downcast  hearts. 

As  it  was  the  first  Sunday,  many  of  the  older  set  remained 
to  partake  of  the  Eucharist,  as  I  was  told. 

I  scarcely  know  what  I  did  from  that  hour  until  nightfall ; 
it  all  seems  a  perfect  blank.  I  do  know  that  about  11  :oo  o'clock 
that  night  I  went  with  Mr.  Ford  to  Cary  Street,  where  we  had 
a  quantity  of  beans  and  other  supplies  stored,  and  saw  a  mass 
of  wagons  and  soldiers  on  the  retreat  from  the  works  below 
and  around  the  city,  making  their  way  over  Mayo's  Bridge. 

On  our  return  we  looked  into  the  large  tobacco  warehouse, 
where  the  present  tobacco  exchange  now  stands.  In  this  was 
stored  a  large  quantity  of  tobacco,  owned  by  the  French  Gov- 
ernment. Through  the  center,  at  intervals  of  about  ten  feet, 
were  piles  of  pine  fagots ;  and  two  sentinels  were  guarding  the 
entrance.  We  could  get  no  information  from  them ;  so  we  re- 
turned to  the  "American  Hotel,"  where  we  found  that  troops 
had  been  ordered  to  seize  and  destroy  all  intoxicating  liquors, 
and  the  heads  of  many  barrels  were  knocked  in  and  the  con- 
tents emptied  into  the  street  gutters. 

Tired  and  disturbed,  I  laid  down  to  rest,  and  about  day- 
light was  awakened  by  a  terrific  explosion,  that  rattled  the 
window  lights.  On  reaching  the  office  I  was  told  that  a  maga- 
zme  had  been  blown  up,  and  the  tobacco  warehouse,  where 
the  fagots  were  piled,  had  been  set  on  fire,  by  order  of  General 
Elzey.  Main  Street  was  full  of  excited  men,  many  of  them 
having  stopped  over  for  the  night,  and  were  now  hastening  to 
join  our  retreating  army. 

About  8:00  o'clock  the  wind  arose  and  commenced  to  fan 
the  flames  of  the  burning  buildings,  which  spread  to  the  large 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  55 

Galego  Flour  Mill.  In  company  with  several  others,  by  going 
around  the  upper  or  west  end  of  the  canal  basin,  we  were  ap- 
palled by  the  fierce  roaring  of  the  flames. 

I  hurriedly  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  found  the  buildings 
in  the  rear  on  fire,  and  my  room  too  hot  to  enter.  My  trunk  and 
every  article  of  clothing,  except  what  I  was  wearing,  were  con- 
sumed, along  with  many  trophies  that  I  valued  highly,  among 
them  the  bullet  that  was  extracted  from  my  arm. 

My  nephew,  Eugene  Pettit,  a  member  of  the  Goochland 
Cavalry,  who  was  with  the  rear  guard,  rode  up,  and  asked  if 
I  had  anything  I  wished  to  send  away.  Fearing  my  watch, 
for  which  I  had  paid  four  thousand  dollars  (Confederate 
money)  might  be  taken  from  me  by  the  enemy,  whose  cavalry 
were  then  coming  up  Main  Street,  I  handed  it  to  him,  and  also 
a  beautiful  enameled  Geneva  lady's  watch,  which  was  pur- 
chased from  a  blockade  runner.  He  galloped  off,  and  about  the 
time  he  reached  Sixth  and  Main  several  shots  were  exchanged, 
as  the  Yankee  cavalry  came  dashing  along. 

I  ran  back  into  the  office  to  save  my  books,  and  as  I  did  so 
the  flames  were  crackling  and  roaring  over  my  head  in  a  fright- 
ful manner.  I  carried  them  to  the  "Spottswood,"  but  what  was 
the  use  !  Everything  was  lost.  I  did  not  have  enough  money  to 
buy  a  change  of  clothing. 

They  were  kind  to  me  at  the  "Spottswood,"  where  I  re- 
mained three  days,  then  to  the  provost  marshall's  office,  and 
took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States  Government, 
and  obtained  a  pass  to  leave  the  city.  I  walked  to  Col.  Jos. 
L.  Carrington's  hospitable  home,  "Sunny  Side,"  where  his  fam- 
ily gave  me  a  hearty  welcome.  I  found  a  large  number  of  Fed- 
eral soldiers  camped  on  the  adjoining  farm,  but  they  were 
orderly  and  respectful. 

In  relating  my  experiences  at  the  "American  Hotel,"  it  must 
not  be  inferred  that  all  my  days  were  unpleasant.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  had  the  opportunity  of  making  many  pleasant  and  last- 
ing friendships,  and  no  soldier  ever  left  the  doors  hungry  for 
want  of  money  to  pay  for  a  meal,  as  many  can  testify,  if  they 


56  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

are  still  living.  It  was  only  when  intoxicated  or  insolent  men 
endeavored  to  impose  upon  me  that  I  was  forced  to  resent  their 
conduct. 

When  the  Union  troops  entered  Richmond  on  that  eventful 
morning,  April  3,  1865,  they  found  conditions  somewhat  similar 
to  that  of  Napoleon's  Army  when  they  entered  Moscow.  But 
to  the  credit  of  the  Federal  Army,  let  it  be  known,  they  went 
heroically  to  work  fighting  to  extinguish  the  alarming  fire. 

All  of  Cary  and  Main  Streets  between  Ninth  and  Four- 
teenth (except  the  U.  S.  Custom  House,  built  of  Quincy  gran- 
ite), also  all  of  shockoe  slip  and  around  the  canal  basin  were  a 
mass  of  smouldering  ruins  before  night.  The  bursting  shell  at 
the  arsenal  on  the  canal,  in  the  western  part  of  the  city,  gave 
the  impression  that  an  artillery  battle  was  being  fought,  while 
the  twelve  hundred  burning  houses  were  roaring  like  a  furnace. 

While  the  hotel  was  burning,  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Wright 
(wife  of  the  proprietor),  who  belonged  to  a  Louisiana  regiment, 
and  had  been  severely  wounded,  was  moved  to  the  basement 
of  the  building  now  used  as  headquarters  of  the  Southern 
Historical  Society,  No.  707  East  Franklin  Street. 

He  died  there  a  few  days  later.  The  writer,  with  a  friend  of 
the  family,  agreed  to  sit  by  the  corpse  during  the  night.  The 
family  occupying  rooms  upstairs  had  retired  and  I  patiently 
awaited  the  arrival  of  the  young  man  who  was  in  the  post  office 
service.  Eleven  o'clock  had  arrived,  and  I  was  yet  alone ;  the 
candle  was  burning  low  in  the  socket  and  a  new  one  was  lit, 
leaving  one  more  on  the  table  for  future  use. 

A  book  was  taken  from  the  case,  and  after  reading  for  an 
hour  or  more,  Morpheus  enveloped  my  faculties  fast.  When 
I  awakened,  it  was  dark  as  Erebus,  and  the  candle  socket  cold, 
indicating  that  my  nap  had  not  been  short ;  it  was  not  a  very 
comfortable  feeling  to  be  alone  in  the  pitch  dark  with  a  corpse, 
yet  I  felt  no  fear,  and  as  no  matches  were  at  hand  to  light  the 
other  candle,  settled  myself  for  another  nap,  hoping  it  would 
last  until  morning  light. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  57 

But  no !  I  could  hear  breathing  from  the  direction  of  the 
corpse ;  my  breath  was  held  to  listen,  and  as  I  did  so,  it  seemed 
a  million  little  pins  were  pricking  every  portion  of  my  body. 

I  felt  my  way  to  the  door  leading  upstairs,  and  called  Mrs. 
Wright.  She  came  to  the  landing  above  and  without  letting 
her  know  that  I  was  alone,  said,  "We  dozed  a  while  and  the 
candle  burned  out  and  I  wished  a  match  to  relight  the  one  on 
hand." 

With  the  lighted  candle  I  removed  the  sheet  and  placed  my 
hand  on  his  brow;  it  was  cold  as  marble,  but  white  bubbles 
were  on  his  lips,  produced  possibly  by  purging  and  caused  the 
breathing  sound  that  so  startled  me.  I  have  no  desire  to  dupli- 
cate that  night's  experience. 

When  the  sun  dipped  below  the  western  horizon  on  the 
evening  of  April  9,  1865,  all  that  was  left  of  the  heroic  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  had  vanished  into  a  sorrowful  band  of  home- 
wardbound  heroes.  But  they  carried  with  them  the  blessing 
and  benediction  of  their  beloved  leader,  as  an  inspiration  and 
guidance  for  their  future.  They  also,  in  the  last  sad  afternoon, 
had  cause  to  carry  home  with  them  a  grateful  remembrance  of 
General  U.  S.  Grant,  commander  of  the  Union  Army,  for  his 
generous  treatment  in  their  misfortunes.  - 

Two  score  and  twelve  years  have  wrought  a  mighty  change 
in  the  condition  of  the  South;  a  wondrous  shower  of  Godlike 
power  has  shed  its  benign  influence  on  our  glorious,  reunited 
country,  and,  though  the  Southern  Army  was  crushed  by  over- 
whelming numbers,  drawn  largely  from  foreign  countries,  yet 
the  Constitutional  rights  for  which  we  fought  are  growing 
stronger  day  by  day  as  the  years  pass  away.  The  prophetic 
lines,  written  many  years  ago  by  Virginia's  poet  laureate,  the 
late  James  Barron  Hope,  will  yet  come  true ;  and,  as  many 
readers  may  not  have  seen  them,  they  will  close  my  reminis- 
cences. 


58  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

"In  the  future  there  will  come  forth  some  historian,  both  strong 

and  wise, 
With  a  love  for  the  Republic  and  truth  before  his  eyes. 
He  will  show  the  subtle  causes  of  the  war  between  the  States, 
He  will  go  back  in  his  studies  far  beyond  our  modern  dates, 
He  will  trace  our  hostile  ideas  as  the  miner  does  the  lodes, 
He  will  show  the  different  habits  born  of  different  social  codes, 
He  will  show  the  Union  riven,  and  the  picture  will  deplore, 
He  will  show  it  reunited,  and  made  stronger  than  before. 
Slow  and  patient,  fair  and  truthful,  must  this  coming  teacher  be, 
To  show  how  the  knife  was   sharpened   that  was   ground  to 

prune  the  tree. 
He  will  hold  the  scales  of  Justice,  he  will  measure,  praise  and 

blame, 
And  the  South  will  stand  the  verdict,  and  stand  it  without 

shame." 

President  Woodrow  Wilson  is  the  "coming  teacher"  to  lead 
us  out  of  our  troubles. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  59 

At  the  annual  banquet  of  A.  P.  Hill  Camp  of  Confederate 
Veterans,  Petersburg,  Va.,  January  19,  1917  (the  birthday  of 
General  Robert  E.  Lee),  the  following  beautiful  tribute  was 
composed  and  delivered  by  Mr.  Charles  Hall  Davis,  and  with 
his  permission  reprinted  here : 

The  Vigil 

The  lessening  circle  of  that  peerless  band  — 
That  half  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  more, 
The  brunt  of  four  years'  war,  unconquered,  bore, 
Until  starvation  gripped  the  Southern  Land  — 
Meets  here  to-night ;  where  Lee  made  his  last  stand ; 
Where  Hill  met  with  a  warrior's  death;  where  roar 
Of  cannon  daily  shook  their  city,  sore 
Beset  by  countless  foes  on  every  hand. 

For  on  this  special  day  each  passing  year  — 
Made  sacred  by  their  matchless  leader's  birth  — 
These  gray-haired  veterans  loving  vigil  keep; 
Revive  old  memories;  tales  of  valor  hear; 
And  pay  just  tribute  to  the  hallowed  earth, 
Where  rest  brave  comrades  in  their  last,  long  sleep. 


60  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

APPRECIATION  FROM  THE  PRESS 

Reminiscences  of  the  War 

The  pamphlet  abounds  in  action  and  incident  which  are  well  de- 
scribed—  sometimes  with  almost  startling  vividness.  Not  the  least 
interesting  features  of  the  book  are  the  author's  reminiscences  of  war- 
time life  in  Richmond  and  of  the  feverish  hours  that  marked  the  evac- 
uation of  the  city. 

In  the  publication  is  an  excellent  picture  of  the  Confederate  capital 
just  after  the  evacuation,  and  another  showing  the  hustling  metropolis 
of  to-day. 

Mr.  Brown  has  a  good,  nervous  style,  which  makes  his  composi- 
tions consistently  interesting,  while  his  memory  is  evidently  retentive, 
He  has  set  down  many  things  of  value  to  historians  and  his  pamphlet 
lacks  neither  atmosphere  nor  local  color. — Evan  R.  Chesterman,  in  Rich- 
mond Evening  Journal. 


Phil  Brown's  Book 
Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  i86i-'65  by  Philip  F.  Brown 

This  publication,  which  is  fresh  from  the  press,  is  in  neatly  printed 
pamphlet  form  of  53  pages,  and  comprises  a  series  of  contributions 
recently  made  by  Mr.  Brown  to  the  Buchanan  News  and  Fincastle 
Herald,  in  which  was  related  the  author's  experience  during  the  civil 
War.  A  very  impelling  story  it  is,  too,  —  well  told  —  and  replete  with 
human  interest.  The  work  is  entirely  modest  in  pretension;  its  scope 
is  confined  to  the  experiences  and  impressions  of  a  Confederate  soldier 
and  intense  loyalist,  who  did  his  part  bravely  and  honorably  to  sustain 
the  dignity  and  rights  of  Virginia,  and  who  emerged  from  those  days 
of  fierce  and  bloody  ordeal,  with  a  bullet  shattered  arm  as  his  badge 
of  courage,  with  conscience  serene  in  the  knowledge  of  duty  faithfully 
performed,  and  facing  the  troubles  and  tragedies  of  the  future  as  well 
became  a  gentleman  unafraid,  and  a  Virginian  sans  reproche.  After 
being  wounded,  Mr.  Brown  received  his  honorable  discharge  from  the 
army,  and  became  identified  with  the  management  of  one  of  Rich- 
mond's famous  hostelries  until  the  close  of  the  war — and  the  relation  of 
what  he  saw  and  experienced  when  thus  situated  constitutes  by  no 
means  the  least  entertaining  and  delightful  feature  of  his  reminiscences. 
We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  book  will  abundantly  repay 
perusal. — Walter  E.  Addison,  in  Lynchburg  News. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865  61 

War  Memories 

There  is  plenty  of  literature,  such  as  it  is,  more  than  enough  of 
certain  sorts,  about  the  struggle  which  convulsed  our  country  from 
border  to  border  fifty  years  ago.  There  is  a  surfeit  of  memoirs  by 
distinguished  officers  seeking  not  to  portray  the  truth  of  history,  but 
to  glorify  their  own  achievements  or  vindicate  their  own  side  of  some 
unhappy  controversy.  Also  there  are  books  without  number,  ambitious 
in  size  and  binding,  the  authors  of  which  venture  far  beyond  the  limits 
of  their  own  experience  and  observation  and  fill  dreary  pages  with 
ill-digested  second-hand  reports  of  distorted  facts  or  ambitious  criti- 
cisms which  serve  only  to  betray  the  ignorance  of  the  writers. 

But  there  are  not  enough,  and  never  can  be  too  many  of  simple 
narratives,  by  those  who  were  actors  in  that  grim  tragedy,  of  what  they 
actually  saw  and  heard  —  the  homely  details  of  happenings  in  bivouac, 
on  the  march  and  in  actual  combat.  For  it  is  in  such  chronicles  that 
the  spirit  of  that  period  is  preserved,  and  it  is  from  the  aggregate  of 
such  relations  that  future  generations  will  evolve  the  truth. 

Of  this  unpretentious  nature  is  a  volume  entitled  "Reminiscences 
of  the  War  of  1861-1865,"  which  bears  on  its  title  page  the  name  of 
Philip  Brown,  late  a  soldier  in  the  Twelfth  Virginia  Infantry  of  Ma- 
hone's  brigade.  It  is  a  voice  from  the  ranks,  does  not  discuss  the 
causes  or  conduct  of  campaigns,  but  is  content  to  picture  what  hap- 
pened from  the  limited  viewpoint  of  those  who  are  called  on  to  do  and 
die,  but  not  to  reason  why..  There  is  no  straining  after  effect;  no 
effort  to  see  beyond  the  author's  field  of  vision;  just  a  straightforward 
tale  of  arduous  service  and  kindly  reference  to  those  who  shared  it 
without  hope  that  the  names  would  be  emblazoned  on  the  rolls  of  fame. 

There  were  many  Norfolk  soldiers  in  the  regiment  and  brigade 
to  which  Mr.  Brown  was  attached,  and  to  those  his  reminiscences  will 
possess  peculiar  interest. — Col.  W .  E.  Cameron,  in  Virginian  Pilot. 


Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1 861 -1865 

By  Philip  F.  Brown,  Company  C,  Twelfth  Virginia  Infantry, 
Mahone's  "Old"  Brigade 

Everything  in  the  pamphlet,  from  beginning  to  ending,  is  most 
valuable,  because  the  absolute  sincerity  and  accuracy  of  the  writer  is 
apparent  in  every  line. 

As  a  record  of  what  one  man  saw,  heard  and  felt  during  the  period 
of  1861-1865,  this  pamphlet  is  history  that  can  be  read  with  confidence 
and  quoted  without  fear  of  contradiction. — Times-Dispatch. 


62  Reminiscences  of  the  War  of  1861-1865 

Phil  Brown's  War  Story 

Graphically  and  in  thrilling  terms  Mr.  Brown  describes  the  closing 
years  of  the  conflict,  telling  us  as  an  eye  witness  of  the  abandonment 
of  Richmond  and  the  entrance  of  Federal  soldiers.  He  gives  his  story 
in  a  most  attractive  manner.  All  who  read  it  will  obtain  a  close  and 
familiar  insight  not  only  into  the  actual  throes  of  a  mighty  engage- 
ment, but  into  the  life  and  thoughts  of  the  man  in  the  ranks.  His 
reminiscences,  we  predict,  will  prove  a  welcome  and  valuable  addition 
to  Virginia's  historical  records. — Roanoke  Evening  World. 


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